


Beneath the Shadowed Hood (There is a Mark Upon My Countenance)

by geniewithwifi



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Betrayal, Cinderella Elements, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Little Mermaid Elements, Multi, Muteness, Paralysis, Past Domestic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge, Romance, Slow Burn, Social Class, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Steampunk, Victorian Attitudes, Vigilante Oliver Queen, Violence, canon pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-11-14 17:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11213136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniewithwifi/pseuds/geniewithwifi
Summary: Felicity Smoak is a mechanic with a secret: she's an alloyium, half human, half clockwork. Having been hurt previous by a Soulspark, she wants nothing to do with her Soulmate when she meets him. He, also doesn't want her, for reasons of his own. Unfortunately, Fate have other ideas.





	1. Embryonic

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [User Interface](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11093190) by [thatmasquedgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatmasquedgirl/pseuds/thatmasquedgirl). 



> The long awaited fic is finally here! Hooray! Alright so the votes are in and it ended in a tie on twitter between Wednesday and Friday. However, the google vote was stacked by valin-dada so..... Friday it is. I'm posting on my thursday night/Friday morning so it reaches all you europeans ON Friday, not saturday morning. 
> 
> This will update weekly on Fridays! If you like what you read please subscribe! There's more where that comes from.  
> This fic is a combinations of lots of different inspirations. There's soulmate AU, little mermaid, beauty and the beast, Cinder, steampunk AU, and arrow. I mean.... it's a clusterpot of ideas in one soup. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! The biggest thanks to @writewithurheart for betaing this, @alexiablackbriar13 for cheerleading and feedback as well as the amazing poster below!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Embryonic: in a rudimentary stage with potential for further development_

 

 

“I feelin’ me a spark today.”

Felicity jumped at the unexpected voice, almost hitting her head on the steamship she worked on. She cursed, wondering how she had gotten so lost in the wiring and mechanics of the machine above her that she hadn’t heard anyone enter. Adjusting her goggles so they rested on her head, she pushed out on the slideboard.

Her assistant, Evelyn, grinned broadly, bouncing slightly with barely contained enthusiasm.

“A spark?” Felicity asked, not exactly sure what Evelyn meant. They dealt with electricity and steam constantly, feeling a connected arc from a wire wasn’t unusual.

Evelyn rolled her eyes, then gestured to her gloved hand. “I feeling a _soul_ spark,” she clarified.

Felicity about let loose a scoff, barely holding it in. Just because she was cynical about society’s fixation on a ‘one true match’, didn’t mean that everyone was. The fact that Evelyn was excited about what Felicity would’ve just brushed off, meant that she still had golden hopes. Evelyn, like her, had grown up in the slums where there wasn’t much hope to begin with. She couldn’t crush something that had Evelyn’s eyes lighting up with delight.

Forcing her voice to feign interest, she passed off a simple, “oh?” then slid back under the steamship.  

“ _Felicity._ ” Her assistant whined. Apparently, Evelyn wanted her whole attention.

Not able to mask her impatience with Evelyn’s choice of topic, Felicity snapped “That’s Miss Smoak to you, young lady. Plus, this steamship isn’t going to fix itself. Go ahead and tell me, but I aim to continue working.”

A large, dramatic sigh was heaved above her. A few seconds later, Evelyn launched into her tale.

“Me was at the brass parts seller in the market this morning, looking fo’ that jumpin’ cable you wanted. Just as I soon as bought it, some fella tapped me on the shoulda. Never seen such a cut hob before. He then asked me if’in he could touch my hand. I ain’t never been asked that before!”

Evelyn sighed again, a romantic dreamy quality about it. Felicity, just like many other girls, had once dreamed about the soulmate touch, of a young gentleman asking simply to touch her hand, palm to palm, to see if their soulmarks were compatible. If they were, a soul spark would happen.

But like most of Felicity’s dreams, it had been crushed quite firmly with what had happened with Cooper. Felicity tugged at her right hand glove subconsciously, smoothing over the wrist feeling the difference between the textures underneath. One is warm and soft, the other cold and unyielding. Both are a part of her.  

Evelyn continued on, oblivious to Felicity’s darkening thoughts.

“I did, course, cause I ain’t not letting a chance like that go, cause what if he’s the one? Me ‘true soulmate’? He’d’ve taken me off, and I aim no longer be forced to work here! Tis a crying shame he wasn’t a real match. But his name sure purty. Roy William Harper Jr. He taken my name down, ina nice soulmark book Felic-- I mean, Miss Smoak, and what me place of abode. He might make me a call!”

From below the machine, Felicity could see Evelyn’s skirts swirling as she spun around in ecstasy. “I am very pleased to hear this Evelyn. I hope that doesn’t mean you’re that eager to leave. That would reflect badly on my part” Felicity remarked, pulling a wrench from her tool bandolier and tightening a nut. She couldn’t help a grin slip loose, catching a bit of Evelyn’s contagious enthusiasm. She was always a bright spot in her shop. That’s why Felicity kept her on despite her perchance of cant and crudity.   

“Oh, no! I ain’t meaning that, Miss, it’s just that he was dressed real cut, ya know. And this a good job, Miss. But I mightn’t not have to work no more.”

Finishing the last bolt, Felicity slid out once more, climbing to her feet. “I know, Evelyn. Congratulations. I sure hope he comes to court you.” Felicity brushed off her trousers, removed her bandolier, then accepted her wrap skirt from Evelyn’s grubby gloves. With a bustle in the back,it was fashionable but also serviceable work skirt,with a hidden a side button to make it easy to take off and on. It made her presentable, but still able to wear her work pants.

Trousers safely hidden, she could be out in society and be ‘acceptable’, as least as far as they were concerned. If they ever figured out what she really was, they’d never find her acceptable again, skirt or no skirt.

“Now, Mr. and Mrs. Jason Halsey should be by to pick up their steamship. Remember to pronounce your words, and don’t use the word ain’t.”

“Of course, Miss.”

Felicity was halfway out the laboratory when Evelyn called, “Therein bein’ a customer outin there Miss!”

She halted, looking down at her palms. Her grease stained work gloves enclosed both hands. Crossing over the main work table, Felicity pulled open a drawer, revealing black silk gloves. Removing the work gloves, she methodically exchanged them with the silk ones, covering her arm all the way up to the elbow on her right hand. She hesitated pulling on the mate. Her soulmark, dark upon her palm, winked up at her. Slowly she traced it, wondering for a second, _what if._ What if it had gone the way it was supposed to? What if they had sparked and had actually been True? What if he hadn’t…?

 _No._  She clenched her hand into a fist, squeezing the mark, stopping those thoughts. Such dreams weren’t for her.

Savagely, she yanked the second glove on, up to her elbow, effectively covering the mark and her indefatigable dreams that refused to stay buried.

No use dwelling on what could never be.  

Pushing her doubts to the back of her mind, she prepared to meet her clients, focusing on what she did best. Work with machines.

Felicity opened the door to the service front, spotting her customer right away. He was tall, with gray eyes and a long face. He tipped his hat, fashion goggles around the band.

“Miss,” he acknowledged. Felicity watched as his leer left her face and ran down the length of her body. This was nothing new, something she’s experienced with many a customer, but she still felt uncomfortable.

“Pardon me, Sir, but my face is up here.” Felicity bit her tongue at her impertinence, hoping he did not take offense. Her mother had always told her to mind what she said; years later Felicity was still cursing the impulse. She couldn’t afford to lose a single customer.

He glared at her. Felicity held his gaze.

“Where’s your employer, wench?” He was offended. That wasn’t good for her business but it serves him right for staring at a woman that way. “I have business with him.” He continued

Felicity gathered herself up, stepping out from behind the counter. “I am the proprietress of this here establishment sir. How may I assist you?”

“You?” His raised eyebrow and baleful stare conveyed his disbelief. “I was under the impression that the owner was a Mr. Smoak.”

“ _Miss_ Smoak, of the Smoak Shop, at your service. Now, how may I assist you?” Felicity kept her voice cheerful, a smile plastered in the face of his rudeness.

He seemed to finally remember himself and the task he’d come for.

“Yes. I am Mr. Alonzo, on behalf of an anonymous party. My employer has heard that you may have a white Dubrowski Crystal and wishes to purchase one.”

Felicity fought to keep her face straight, dismay settling in her chest. Her hands under her gloves felt clammy. She clenched them into fists to stop them shaking. Her heartbeat quickened. _How did they know?_ Her hand unconsciously drifted to her throat, however she caught the motion halfway there, disguising it as brushing off lint or dust. She couldn’t give any sign of weakness or hesitance.

“You must be mistaken.” Was that a quiver in her voice? “There aren’t any white Dubrowski Crystals for sale here, sir. If you want one, you’d have to be as rich as the Queens, or at least be friends with them. They’re the ones who import the crystals from Russia.”

“I know that.” He snapped, picking up his cane.

“But if one ever comes in, I’ll make sure to send for you. Do you have a place of residence you can leave with me?”

Mr. Alonzo extracted a card from an inside pocket of his waistcoat. Felicity reached for it, right hand ready to receive it. Instead of handing it to her, he deliberately ignored her hand, letting it flutter to the counter top.

“See that you send for me _immediately._ ” He demanded. He straightened his hat in a show of annoyance, frowned at her, and then with a flutter of his cloak, he left the shop, the door slamming behind him. Felicity tipped her head in farewell.

“Egads.” Felicity muttered, the tension from a few seconds ago leaving with the horrid man.

“What was that about?”

Felicity jumped, whirling around, a reprimand on her tongue for Evelyn for sneaking up on her again, when she spotted John, peeking around the concealed door.

She glanced around, looking for any customers. Finding the floor empty, she ushered John forward.

John Diggle was a big man. Everything about him was big. His shoulders, his hands, his arms. That’s not what people tended to stare and judge him for though. Instead, people tended to halt at the dark color of his skin, and never see past that difference to the person underneath.

He, like Felicity, was estranged from Society. Diggle’s was more visible, and therefore, less welcomed. They’d met deep in the Glades and joined forces. Diggle had actually found her after her surgery, broken and tossed in an alley, where no one would dare go near her.

John had ignored all that, marched right up to her and took her home. He knew a thing or two about being different, he’d told her, and misfits should stick together.

They’d started the Smoak Shop together, Felicity with her special skills and ability to be ‘Society Presentable’, and Diggle with his hard earned cash, and male privilege, as much as he could have anonymously. Between the two of them, they could run, own, and manage the shop and no one would bat an eye.

“Someone knows.” Felicity murmured to Diggle, actively keeping an eye out.

“About?” He wondered.

Instead of speaking, Felicity touched her throat. “Someone knows I have it. Or at leasts suspects I have one. A man came in asking about a Dubrowski. A _white_ one. No one would think a mechanic would have a white Dubrowski, let alone one in the Glades. They know, Dig. I’m sure of it.”

Diggle frowned, crossing his arms. “We don’t know nothing yet, Miss Felicity. This is just your brilliant mind running miles ahead of itself. A man just came in asking for a white Dubrowski. He could be going to every machine shop and store until he locates one.”

“White Dubrowski’s don’t just end up in a machine shop where they could be purchased by anyone and you know it! The Queens are the richest family in Starling and they own only a hundred! Only those with means would be able to handle one, let alone barter it.”

“Except you.”

“Yes, except me.” She acknowledged. “I’m still not sure it’s not a mistake though, Diggle. I mean, why would someone anonymously send one of the most expensive crystals in the world to me of all people? It must have been intended for a different person.”   

Diggle uncrossed his arms, placing his enormous hands on both of her shoulders, his leather gloves crushing her blouse. “We’ve been over this countless times, Miss Felicity. The package was sent to you, with your name on it. Not for some nameless intender. You. Which is why you are using it right now.”

“But Dig--”

“But nothing. Miss Felicity, you out of anyone in the world deserve that crystal. Oliver Queen up in his castle, with all his riches, and heritage, and prestige won’t come close to ever deserving to own one of those as much as you do. Do you understand me?”

Felicity ducked her head. “Yes, John. I still feel like a thief though.”

“You’re not, Miss Felicity. That Dubrowski Crystal is yours and yours alone. I won’t let anyone take it from you. We’ll just be on the lookout for the next couple weeks. Alright?”

She relented. “Alright.”

“Good. Now Lyla’s making beef stew. Ya want some?”

That made Felicity perk up. “Of course. Nothing can beat your soulmate’s stew. She’s your true one, ain’t--isn’t she?”

Diggle grinned knowingly. “Still can’t totally fix your speech, Miss Felicity. And yeah, Lyla’s my match. Thank The Lord or society would’ve stoned me long ago for even looking at a white woman, let alone marrying her.”

“Even if she was just a spark?” Felicity couldn’t help but ask.

“You know how folks are. True Mates are the only thing worth making an exception for. For a black man, I need all the exceptions I can get.”

Diggle disappeared upstairs, and Felicity set to follow him, until a couple walked in, arm in arm. Mr. and Mrs. Jason Halsey, here for their steam carriage.

“Good Day.” Felicity greeted them, making sure the door to upstairs was firmly shut.

Mr. Halsey ignored the pleasantries.“It’s all fixed?”

“Yessir, I fixed it myself.” Felicity caught her blunder too late. Society frowns on women mechanics, even though a good chunk of the best mechanics are female, like Felicity. She’s actually met a couple of them through the back channels. That information is kept on the hush hush though, since both men and women alike prefer the engineering and mechanics of their machines to be handled by good, strong men.

“You?”

Deciding to ignore the question, she directed them around back. “It’s all ready to go. An assistant will meet your driver in the back and bring it to the alleyway. If you’ll follow me.”

She opened a side door, allowing the man and wife to exit before her. Avoiding the worst of the refuse that littered the street, she got them to the back of the shed, where the driver was just climbing in the driver's seat.

The carriage was shined to perfection, compliments of a beaming Evelyn. A shovel of coal in the stove, a filled water tanker off to the side, and a lever pulled, and the engine puffed and crawled forward, pulling up next to the waiting couple.

Mr. Jason Halsey turned to Felicity. “Tell your… well, tell who ever repaired my engine they have my thanks.” He offered her a bag. “This will be enough payment?” Felicity hefted it, weighing how much coin.

“It’s enough. Thank you for your business, Mr. Halsey.”

He handed his wife up, then swung up himself. Felicity didn’t mind steam carriages, since she worked on them the most, but she preferred a good old fashioned hack, horse included. No machine could, or _should,_ take the place of a living breathing animal. Felicity would know better than most.

Back into the shop she went, finding two customers impatiently waiting, broken devices clutched in their hands.

A service automaton was placed on her counter top, the blue Dubrowski crystal inside that controls its motions cracked and pieces missing. An easy quick fix.

Next was a blaster. Three nuts were missing, the chute jammed and bent, and the orange Dubrowski missing. That’d take longer than a day to fix since she’d have to ask around to see if anyone had an orange Dubrowski she could trade for. She informed her customer he'd have to return in three days and sent him on his way. Evelyn would take it apart and find all the replacements except for the orange Dubrowski, leaving it for Felicity to fix sometime in the coming days.

Finally, Felicity could close her shop, and join the Diggle family in feasting. There was something she had to do first however.

“Evelyn?” She entered the back shed, looking for her assistant. Evelyn was polishing another carriage. Felicity had one last thing on her tasks for today, and it wasn’t one she was looking forward to doing.

“Miss Smoak?” Evelyn skipped forward.

“Come sit with me?”

“A’right.”

Felicity unbuttoned her skirt, laying the false item off to the side, before settling herself on a work bench. Evelyn sat beside her, arranging her skirts.

“Was what it that you wanna talk abou’?”   

Felicity dreaded what she had to say next. But it was better Evelyn know now, before she got hurt, like Felicity did.

“This Roy, I’d be careful.”

“Why?” Such innocence. Felicity almost didn’t want to destroy it.

“There’s a reason society puts so much emphasis into a true match. And it’s because sparks, while promising, and elating, and wonderful, can also be dangerous. They have potential to make you happy, and relationships can work from sparks, but it takes work, and effort and most of all trust. Because if they spark stronger than you, Evie,” Felicity deliberately used her nickname to draw her attention, “then they can control you. And that is very dangerous. So please, be careful with this Roy.”

Evelyn considered her words, biting her lips. Then: “Did someone’n hurt you badly, Felicity?”

She cleared her throat. “Just be cautious, alright?”

Evelyn’s grin broke through. “Yes’m Miss.” And she scampered off.

* * *

Felicity bid goodbye to the Diggles, her belly full and her spirits cheered. The darkness that constantly clouds her mind is pushed back to the far reaches.

Felicity twists her right wrist, hearing the creaks, but knowing a good lubrication would do miracles for her joints. She walks down the street, ears peeled, walking fast. Her home was only a street down, the closest house available to her shop. The lamplighter walks down the opposite side, slowly and surely lighting the way. The Glades is one of the oldest and the poorest part of Starling; Electric lights hadn’t totally made their way here. Every so often, a blue Dubrowski is spotted in a street light, but they tend to get stolen pretty quick. Hence the old flint and tinder method.

She is almost to the boarding house when she hears a _swick_ and a _thunk,_ coming from the alley next to her. Sounds of fighting follows, punches finding their mark, groans of pain. Felicity automatically tenses to run, having had a bad experience with an alley brawl.

Then she crosses in front of the alley; a lamp behind her lights up the alley way. A man is dragging a figure to the ground, the other three pulling and tugging on the foe until he's sprawled on the ground. They proceed to kick the prone man, who curls protectively over his stomach. Felicity would’ve kept on, ignoring the fight, her home beckoning after a long day, danger emitting from the alley, except her eyes alit on a brass mechanical bow, gears wrapped around what is seen as an archaic weapon. Only one person carried such a thing.

The Nightmare of Starling.

For two years, going on three, he’d been active, evading police and all attempts to unmask him. He’d stemmed crime by going where the cops wouldn’t go. The dark alleys in the Glades, the mansions of the rich. The vigilante was no respecters of person. He played judge and jury, and in extreme cases, executioner.

It was always front page news when a body was found dead, green tipped arrows buried in it’s chest. Later, it was revealed the deceased had been involved in bad stuff. One such body, Derek Reston, had been selling whores for yellow Dubrowski’s. Starling’s Finest found him on their front step, two arrows clustered around a target of his silent heart.

The Nightmare was part of Starling now. No one spoke his name, in fear he would find them and remove their tongue. Children were told to behave or the Nightmare would visit them and leave a warning arrow.

Any mention of him was taboo, all out of fear. No one considered him a hero, though the streets she walked were slightly safer because of him. No one knew who was under the mask, but it had to be a fearsome man, to intimidate, to strike terror into the entire city.

All except Felicity.

She’d never been scared of him. He was a mystery. Why did he do what he did? He appeared from nowhere, killing left and right. How did he know who was corrupt? Where did he get his information? How did he afford all his equipment?

He was an enigma and his very presence made her stop.

One of the men reached down and picked up the brass bow, sneering at the man on the ground.

“Not so fearsome now, eh, Hood? The Nightmare on the ground? Curled like an infant? Nothing but a pussy.”

What happened next was in slow action. The beautiful bow, a masterpiece of an instrument, something that Felicity itched to examine up close, caress and admire, the brute took that bow in both hands and swung it against the brick wall, the dull ring echoing down the alley.

“No!” Felicity exclaimed with feeling, trying to prevent such a massacre of a beautiful object. The man swung again, and the bow bent. Her feet moved her forward, down the alley way, all her attention on saving that piece of art. One last hard swing had the bow folding, creaking and bending upon itself, the hollow inside gaping free.

He threw the deformed weapon on the ground. Something ugly rose up in Felicity’s chest. No machine should be tossed aside as if it was useless. Even if it was battered and bent. Even if it didn’t seem to work. Nothing should be ignored like that.

“Oy! Fella’s!”

Suddenly, five pairs of eyes were all fixated on her, and she froze. She hadn’t thought this far ahead.

The vigilante moved then, raising himself up on one arm. “Run.” He intoned. Felicity didn’t think twice. She grabbed the abused weapon from the ground and ran, hearing the pursuing footsteps. She couldn’t lead them to her house, but Felicity knew she couldn’t even attempt to outrun them.

She pried the yellow Dubrowski crystal from the bow, holding it in her hands. As she ran, she rolled up her right sleeve, ripping her glove from her hand, and attached the crystal to a socket in her wrist. Her left thumb felt for the button on her palm. Locating it, she pressed down.

Turning around, she shot the beam from her hand into the chest of each of the men. One by one they fell, seizing with the electricity running through them.

Felicity caught her breath, puffing. She’d survived. This was the first time she was grateful for her… abnormalities. It had saved her life _and_ the vigilante’s. Speaking of him, she better check to see if he was alright.

She ran back to the alley. He had slumped to the ground unconscious. Still holding the bow, she reattached the yellow Dubrowski. She tried her best to reform the bow, pulling out a spare wrench and hammer she carried on her person at all times.

Felicity worked quietly, every so often checking to make sure that the vigilante was still out. She could see him breathing, so she knew he was still alive. The bow wasn’t repaired to her usual standards, but she was without her regular tools.

She took a second to admire the weapon in her hands. It was magnificent. The gears and wires entwined and connect in expert craftsmanship. There were several small embellishments, including a wire pulley release, miniature blasters at either end, as well as a steam generator. It was a very well made bow.

She located the craftman’s emblem on the bottom. Ramon. Of course. He would build anything for the right amount of coin. And he would take his client’s secrets to the grave.

Felicity could do better though. Ramon’s specialty was steam, which explained the steam generator. A bow like this would do better to expound upon the yellow Dubrowski’s power, using hard earned mechanics with the backup of electricity as well as steam to increase the arc range. Ramon compromised the metal for more elaborate effects.

 Taking in as many specs as she could, she vowed to create him a better bow. Something made out of metal that couldn’t be bent by some mean brute.   

Felicity jumped when he stirred, his breathing increasing. Knowing she shouldn’t be here when he awoke, she made her way to her boarding room, Felicity couldn’t sleep though, the encounter refusing leave her thoughts. Something told her they would meet again.

Felicity looked forward to it.

 

 


	2. Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Encounter: an unexpected or casual meeting with someone or something_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely comments last chapter! I'm glad you like it and enjoy it as much as I do writing it. Now a big great thanks to the amazingly awesome @writewithurheart who beta'd this for me! 
> 
>  
> 
> Reviews feed the muse!

****Felicity's Bow

 

 Cisco's Bow 

 FOR REFERENCE

 

**CHAPTER 2**

Over the next week, Felicity found time to craft a new bow. She stayed later, risking the darkened streets of Starling for her walk home. But that risk would be worth it.

While Ramon was talented, he lacked her finesse with Dubrowski crystals. The wooden structure of the bow was stable, preventing shocks to the wielder when fired, but the iron was too heavy for the wood, which allowed it to shatter.

The Hood’s bow had to be light, supple enough to bend but not break, and have use of proper mechanics. Copper wire as well as brass- a lighter but stronger metal-- and Felicity used wood as the bow’s base, the handle as well as two wings to hold the shape. Ramon had the right idea, going for lightness and suppleness. However, Felicity had experience in experimenting and going where no man dared. Her time in Boston-- well, it had widened her scope of understanding, despite the pain it brought.

Felicity knew the perfect material to use for the handle’s grip: Ivory. Delicate, yet strong, it would embellish the bow, make it unique.  Perfect for the man who kept this city a little safer for her. Getting ivory, however, would be the challenge. Even her supplier who dealt in rarer items was squirrelly about the ivory.

“Come back next week,” Rene told her, glancing around his market stall. Vegetables were laid out, most of them wilted. It was just a front for his real business. “I might be able to get my hands on some. But you have to make me something in return. A customer got wind of your special something. Wants a couple. I could make some huge turnaround, easily get your ivory.”

Felicity hesitated. The more she made of her “specialty” the more she risked exposure. Was it really worth it for the ivory?

_Yes. Anything to show up Ramon._

“Deal.”

Rene grinned, touching his hat in farewell. Felicity walked away from his stall. While she was usually friendly with Francisco Ramon, they were fierce rivals. He respected her work, and didn’t belittle her because she was a woman. Her work stood for herself, and Ramon knew it.

Two girls walked past her, giggling. Felicity moved to avoid them, but caught wind of their topic.

“Mr. Oliver Queen is hosting a gala in three weeks did you know? Oh I’ve already told Mama what to order me. I must have a new dress!”

“Why? Because you think he’ll be smitten with you? I’m pretty sure he won’t be able to take his eyes off of me.”

The first one snorted. “Pardon me? You have a truemate, or did your forget your loving Samuel.”

“I didn’t forget him, Becca. This is Oliver Queen we’re talking about. His family is so rich. And while I love Samuel, he’s a cobbler’s apprentice.”

“Still. You’re matched. Which means that _I_ could be his spark! I hear this party…” Felicity moved out of earshot, breathing a sigh of relief. Naive adolescents wandering the Glades, drawing great amount of attention to themselves. Felicity didn’t want to get caught up in that drama. Though what they’d said about the gala interested her. Why would a recluse throw a shindig?

She debating going back and following the girls, just to learn more information. She decided against it. While a part of her wanted to dress up and go to a gala, dancing with charming, handsome men. Forget reality for a few blessed hours.

The more rational side told her she was safe in her shop on Oak and Maple.

Evelyn leaped at her when she entered the back shed, quivering in delight. “Didden ya hear? Ollie Queen is hostin a fancy ga-.. ga-la!” She hesitantly pronounced the last word.

“Yes, I did hear.”

“I wishin I was fine ‘nough ta go. Do ya think’em Mr. Harper will take me? Oh speaken that Roy n’ paid me a call!”

“He did?”

“Well, sorta. Nothin’ much happened afore. He just comin’ and left a note with my boardin’ mistress. Felicity, I is to come to the Queen an’ Arrow!”

Felicity turned to gape at her assistant. She was too flabbergasted to even acknowledge Evelyn’s use of her first name. “But that’s the gambling den owned by--”

“They ‘em Queens. Yes M’am. Mr. Harper works fo em.”

“Evelyn, don’t you dare go to that gambling den. It’s no place for a lady.”

“I aint no lady, Miss Smoak an’ you knows it.  I’ll go where I please. He’s sparking you see. Perhaps I’ll even spot the elusive Ollie Queen “

“Evelyn, Oliver Queen is no saint. Ever since he was found on that island six months ago, he ain’t been nothing but trouble. All folks gossiping. Having random galas. He’s turning Starling on top of itself in curiousity. And why he would start a gambling den in the middle of the Glades… he’s better off  trying to improving the slums, not adding to it. Mark my words, that gambling den is a dangerous place.”

“But just to see a glimpse of the man, Miss Smoak! I mean, I heard o’ rumours of him being disfigured, scars upon his face. I wanna see ifin it true!”

Felicity scoffed, tearing off her skirt and securing her tool belt. She slid under a steamcarriage, finding the broken blue crystal and exchanging it out with a fresh one.

“He’s a man, Evelyn. Nothing special about him. I don’t get this whole city’s obsession with the Queen Heir. I’m grateful they found him still alive, but that’s it. He’s still an entitled, self absorbed rich man who wouldn’t step a dainty foot into any part of the Glades that isn’t a direct line from his gambling den and back to the golden palace he lives in. “

“What about Miss Laurel Lance, Miss Smoak. I heard that she’s a steppin beauty. She his true mate?”

“Wrench please, Evelyn. And I don’t know, you tell me. It seems you’re more versed in the rumour mill than I.”  Felicity made a few more adjustments then climbed back to her feet, one carriage finished.

“Stop your gossiping you two. Laurel Lance is his mate, as far as I’m concerned.” Diggle poked his head in, straightening his cravat. “You want me to watch the front, Miss Felicity?”

“Yes. Just keep an eye out Diggle. Call me if anyone comes in.”

Evelyn grinned wickedly, a glint in her eye. “She’s just waitin to see ifin that Hood man drops by to thank her.”

Felicity glared at her, regretting ever telling them about her encounter with the Nightmare.

“With em Kiss.”

“Evelyn!” Felicity scolded.

“You’re makin a specially bow for him. I was thinkin ya two were’in steppin out ‘r such.”

“No. That is not happening. I’m making him a bow because his is broken _and_ I want to show up Ramon. That is it.” Felicity spun away in embarrassment, fiddling with a steamer .

“I don’t believen you.”

“Well that’s it. I don’t even know the man. We had a darkened encounter-- and that is not what I meant and you know it.”

“Whatev’r ya say, Miss Smoak.”

“One more thing before I forget.” Felicity turned away from inspecting the steamer and faced her protege’. “I’m coming with you tomorrow.”

“No! I can handle me self. No need fo ya to come.”

“The answer is final, Evelyn. I’m coming with you. If there’s two of us, then trouble might not find us. “ Evelyn frowned, pouting, but relented, daggers glared at Felicity.

Just as Felicity is about to go back to the steamer and analyze it, she heard her name from the front.

“Someone for you!” Diggle has a somber expression on his face, telling her all she needs to know about her patron.

Mr. Alonzo.

He’d come back every single day for the past week, always asking about the White Dubrowski. She gave him the same answer everyday.

“Miss Smoak. I’m just coming to check to see if you had a White Dubrowski.”

Felicity dug her nails into her palms, fighting her rising panic. She shook her head, going for reluctantly. “Like i said yesterday, sir, and the day before that, I have no white Dubrowski’s for sale, Mr. Alonzo. I do have a couple of yellows though. Would that be sufficient?”

“No, thank-you, Miss Smoak. Only a white Dubrowski will do. Never mind, I shall return again tomorrow. Good day.” He bowed, and tipped his stovetop hat.

“Good day.” She responded, dipping her head.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, she was able to breathe once more. They _had_  to know that she had one. Coming back so often indicated that they were doggedly determined. But she _needed_ her white Dubrowski. Life was difficult for her without it. Felicity could survive, she could wander, she could manage to go about her day, but to delude society, to maintain a sense of normalcy, that Felicity was all human, her white Dubrowski was vital. No one could have it.

* * *

Felicity went about the next day like normal, sketching in a notebook while not busy in the back, adding onto her plans for the vigilante’s bow. How she would get it to him, she didn’t know, but Felicity felt that he deserved something good for curbing the crime in this city. He was actually making a difference, whether morally right or not.  And she admired him for it.

About closing time, again Mr. Alonzo made an appearance. Felicity tensed when he came through the door, struggling to smile. He’d come back, again probably with the same request.

“Mr. Alonzo,” she greeted him. “We’ve unfortunately haven’t any White’s in yet, but if one appears, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Miss Smoak.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t like your impertinence. My employer does not like to be kept waiting. As soon as one is in your possession, I expect you to send for me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal. Immediately upon arrival a runner will be sent.”

“Good day.”

Felicity whispered the farewell, the trial of the day disappearing out her door. Her encounters with this man was always uneasy; it seemed that he would not just lose interest. Persistent and demanding, Felicity would have to come up with something quick, before the mysterious employer started spreading bad rumors of her business. She didn’t know how influential her could be, but she couldn’t risk it. A plan would have to be made.

Evelyn doused the lamps five minutes early, eagerly pulling the drapes, and locking the main door. She turned to Felicity. “Can we go now?”

Felicity smiled at her excitement. “Not yet. How about we eat whatever Lyla has for us upstairs, and let me be a bit more presentable for a gambling den, and then we’ll go. Sound good?”

“Al’ight. Though what ifin Roy be worried and he get to frettin’ that I be not there? He mightin givin up on me. I afear that be happenin’.”

Felicity grasped the younger girl’s shoulder. “You’ll get there just fine. Queens and Arrows doesn’t even get busy until an hour from now. We have time to eat a nice meal. It isn’t a good idea to go there on an empty stomach.”

They trudged upstairs, Felicity shedding her faux skirt and bustle. Lyla and Diggle didn’t mind her leggings, and Felicity was much more comfortable in that than a skirt.  

“Well met, Lyla.” Felicity addressed the white woman tending the stove.

“Felicity!” Lyla offered her a big grin. “How was the shop today?”

“A steady stream of customers, thank Goodness. This flaw in Richardson’s new steamcarriage has kept people coming in to have them fixed. All them dang silver wiring, it’s shorting out the orange Dubrowski. I have to replace them all with copper. Oh! Speaking of which, I have a delivery coming in, the usual orange Dubrowski supplier. Could you or Diggle get the shipment? It’s coming during my morning workings, and you know how it goes, I lose track of time. Oh!  a new copper wire distributor is also arriving, so don’t be alarmed if you don’t know him. Can you do this for me?”

Lyla nodded at the doorway. Felicity glanced over to watch Evelyn waltz in. Lyla lowered her voice “Why not ask Evie?”

Felicity mimicked her. “Because I need her to keep me on task. She helps me while I work, so that I don’t try and improve the carriages. I’m just supposed to fix them, not recreate from someone else’s work.”

“Why not... you know... create your own? You’d make better money that way, Felicity. Heaven knows you need the income.”

Felicity settled into a chair. “I know I should, but I don’t think I’m ready for that yet, Lyla. And drawing such attention to myself is just asking for trouble. Designing my own carriage? Please, no. I’d want to work on something else besides those crickety things.”

“You just like the horses.”

Felicity grinned. “You know me too well. Nothing deserves to be replaced by a machine. Especially a horse. They’re too kind and trusting. They don’t need to be fixed.”

“Felicity…”

She glared at Diggle. “Leave it alone, Dig. Nothing can be done about me. Now I’m off,” Felicity stood, brushing off her skirt, adjusting the neckline above her corset. Her mother would’ve approved of Felicity’s attire, though she herself was uncomfortable.

She nodded to Dig and swept out the door, snagging Evelyn’s arm. Double checking her purse she had enough for a hack. It was quite a trek to Queens and Arrows, in the depths of Starling. She hailed a taxi, ignoring the steam powered ones that stopped, and climbed aboard the only horse run cab.

The carriage wound through the city, the echoes of street calls, the crunching of carriage wheels and the hiss of team perforating the compartment. Felicity focused on that, not on her unease settling in her gut. Going to Queens and Arrows was a bad idea. A gambling den wasn’t a place she ever wanted  to return to. Bad memories of those places continued to plague her. She was a respectable woman now, not a daughter of a fancy lady.

They arrived sooner than Felicity had wanted. It was only about 20 minutes ride from the Smoak Shop, though the dread she felt hastened the time passing.

The driver assisted both her and Evelyn in alighting from the carriage.

“Alright, Evelyn. Stay close to me. Even if you see Roy, take me with you. Don’t be alone with him.”

Evelyn seemed to shrug her off, pulling on Felicity’s arm. “Yes, Ma’am.”

The gambling den was dark and smoky, the sweet smell of tobacco and even sweeter opium lacing the air. Felicity made sure her arm was securely attached to Evelyn. She didn’t need  the girl scampering off just now.

Felicity located the doorman, the person in charge of accepting and declining credit, as well as extended access.

“Excuse me, sir.” Felicity spoke with an aire she certainly didn’t feel. But she just pretended to be Donna Smoak, and went for it. “Do you know where I perchance might locate a Mr. Harper?”

The doorman jerked up, gaping at her. Felicity suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t know what her impression was, but by the looks of things, she and Evelyn were the only women in this establishment. No fancy ladies in sight. Huh.  Most gambling had several women for luck and for… celebration afterwards.

“Y-you… ahem… you may find Mr. Harper in the back. “ He whistled, and a young boy about twelve came running. “William will take you back there. William, take these two ladies to see Harper, alright?”

William nodded, then flashed a brilliant smile at Felicity.

“Com’n Lady. Me takes ya to ‘Arper.”

Through the den they wove. Felicity kept her eyes straight ahead but it was hard to ignore the stares she and Evelyn drew, the hushed whispers spreading as games halted. Once or twice a man would reach out and grab her dress, catching the sleeves on the shoulders. Artfully she sidestepped them before they could get a good grip. Her mother had taught her well.

Something told her  to stop. Felicity didn’t know what it was; whether she felt the weight of a stare or some integral urge drawing her to someone. The primal instinct one gets when a potential mate is close, perchance. Whatever it was, Felicity paused and glanced to the overhead balcony.

Only special patrons were welcome up at the observation deck, where the owners and operators watched  the money flow in. She saw several men, all gaping at her. One drew her attention; he was the only one _not_  looking at her. He did everything possible to not meet her gaz. A tall hat sat on his head, a novelty item attached. For some reason, his hat was sporting a veil, something that is traditionally a woman’s. It was masculine as possible, the lace unadorned with either feathers or patterns.  After a few seconds he turned away entirely.

“I bet that’s Oliver Queen.” Evelyn leaned over and whispered, inclining her head at the departing figure. A somber fellow then, with a slight limp. Interesting.

Evelyn once again dragged her forward. William was almost out of sight and they hurried to catch up with the speedy boy.

William led them to a door in the back, where he knocked twice. “Vis’tors ‘Arper!” He then turned and scampered off, leaving the women to fend for themselves.

The door was opened by a youth, not much older than Evelyn, wearing a tannish, reddish waistcoat.

“May I help you--” He started until he saw Evelyn.

“Evie, I wasn’t, I mean to say I didn’t think… come in. And I apologize,” he turned to Felicity, “ I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“Miss Felicity Smoak.”

Roy half bowed in respect, stepping back to allow them entrance. Felicity bobbed a curtsey in turn, following Evelyn in a sparse room. There was a table with two chairs, a washbasin with a razor, and a bed. A mirror sat on the wall above the basin.

“Thank-you for coming. If it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience, do you think I could have a moment alone with Miss Sharp?” He frowned, glancing at Felicity.

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “To be honest, Mr. Harper, I don’t trust you. Though I do trust you the most in this establishment.”

“Please, Miss Smoak?” Evelyn found her voice. The lack of slang or emphasis of pronunciation told Felicity everything; she really wanted this.

“Very well. It seems I am in need of a powder room. Do you know where I might find one, Mr. Harper.”

“Thank-you, Miss Smoak. We don’t have a lady’s powder room, however privacy might be found in the kitchen. Down the hall, three doors down.”

Felicity exited, a bad feeling clenching her chest. She didn’t plan to leave Evelyn alone for that long. Propriety demanded a chaperone, but Felicity was willing to overlook society’s properness. Neither of them were a proper lady, still, a bad reputation would hurt Evelyn for life.

She found the kitchen like Mr. Harper had informed her, using the chamberpot and a handled pump to wash her hands. However, when she exited, she didn’t know if she should turn right or left. She was turned around, lost in an unfamiliar place with unsavory men.

Deciding on a direction, she walked down two halls, not finding Roy’s door. Voices echoed towards her, letting her know she was headed towards the game floor.

As she turned, she backed into a chest. One hand grabbed her middle the other coming down on her mouth, muffling her cries. She was dragged into a closet, fighting the man behind her. She jammed her elbow into his chest, and his grip loosened.

“Help!” She called.

She almost broke free, his hand coming up at the last second grabbing her hair and yanking her back.

“Come here, _whore._ Or should I say Alloyrium?” Felicity gasped, in fear, in outrage, in surprise. _He knew._   “I know you have a white Dubrowski. Give it to me!” He reached for her throat.

“No!” She brought her right arm down on his, her enhanced bones snapping his. It was dark, she couldn’t see his face clearly. Nor did she stay to find out.

She scrabbled out of the closet, looking back over her shoulder, her hand protecting her throat. That was how she ran into someone, bouncing back and hitting the floor.

Felicity scrambled away, desperate to put as much distance as she could between the man trying to steal a part of her. Down hallways she flew, trying to locate outside so she could take Evelyn and run. Instead she found stairs. Deciding to take them, rationalizing she was safer upstairs, she ducked into the first unlocked door.

Gasping for breath Felicity sunk back against the closed door. She closed her eyes in relief, listening for any foot steps following her.

They knew what she was. A woman made out of metal and flesh, human ingenuity and nature. Alloyrium. And they wouldn’t stop until they got it. A white Dubrowski, sent to her by an anonymous party saved her life. Diggle did what he could to keep her alive, but only the most powerful gem could keep her functioning.

After a few seconds of blissful silence, she opened her eyes.

Straight into piercing blue ones.

“May I help you, Miss?”

There, sitting at a desk surrounded by papers and inkpots was the one and only Oliver Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!
> 
> Also visit me on Twitter and Tumblr as @geniewithwifi


	3. Emergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Emergence: the gradual beginning or coming forth_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that this is a day (two days?) later than normal. This chapter gave me a bit of trouble, though it is my favorite chapter so far. Some familiar faces as well as the moment we've been hoping for!
> 
> Big thanks to bushlaboo for filling in while Nicole (writewithurheart) was unavailable. The next update will hopefully be on schedule- this coming Friday. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_“May I help you miss?”_

Felicity stared at him, back glued to the door. Her heart raced, her breath coming hard and fast. Adrenaline made her shaky and uneasy, any sort of sound having her on high alert. No footsteps pounded outside the door, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still looking for her.

Though perhaps she was facing a greater obstacle-- the confirmed-to-be-true-rumouredly-scarred billionaire heir, Oliver Queen.

Beaver hat situated firmly on his head, the veil underneath covered all but one curve of his cheek down to corner of his mouth. The aforementioned article limited Felicity’s view of his face, canceling out all attempts to assess his character and reaction. Was he amused? Angered? Mildly annoyed? The grim set of the corner of his mouth visible ruled out being amused.

“Can I help you?” Judging by the tone of his repeated question, not dark with anger but with underlying scorn, he was probably annoyed then. Irritated. Alright, she could deal with that. Maybe.

Felicity shook her head in response to his question, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear nervously. Just being in his presence was startling; having him address her directly flustered her to the point of being almost speechless.

He must not have known her head shake was an answer to his question. He rose from his chair, an action he should have done at once with her appearance according to Society’s proper rules and all. Her analytical mind started whirring. Seems someone else had a disregard for the rules.

He crossed his arms, the corner of his mouth turning even further down. Felicity stuttered to speak, crossing the distance between them daringly, desperate prevent him from ejecting her from the room. Not with her pursuer still searching for her. She placed a hand on her heart, willing it to slow. She wasn’t scared of him, no that wasn’t what made her feel brave, crossing towards him. It was facing down his infamy that proved intimidating.

“You’re Oliver Queen.” The words came without thought, stumbling over themselves in their haste to quell his anger. Something told her his anger would be a sight to behold. Felicity clapped a hand over her mouth, appalled at her forwardness, in a vain attempt to inhibit the flow of spoken thoughts. Frantically, she tried to fix it.

“I mean, I know who you are. They found you on that island, you didn’t die, well didn’t drown, your father did. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry, it’s just I know who you are, everyone knows who you are…. “ Still the stiff posture, tension radiating from him. As an afterthought she added: “You asked me a question. No, you’re not able to help me…” She finished, exhaling from rushing that out all in one breath.

She risked a peek at his face. Miraculously, the grim line started turning up, a hint of uplift at his cheeks. Sakes alive, he had a dimple! She bet the man would be stunning with a bright smile lighting up his whole face, veil long forgotten. Alas, that was not reality.

Olive--- Mr. Queen braced his hands on his desk, eyeing her up and down. Under any other situation, she would’ve felt uncomfortable, having a man peruse her so. His gaze wasn’t lecherous, instead assessing, weighing her qualities against her quirks. Similar to how she would contemplate a machine.

He stood up straight, catching her off guard. “Yes, all you say is in fact true. I am Oliver Queen. You might be…?”

Felicity froze, her hands, metal and flesh alike, clenching into fists. Anxiety had her panicking. “Felicity,” she blurted, saying anything to take the intense focus off of her. A beat later, she regretted her hastiness. She had given a total stranger, one she had just barely met, and a _man_ her _first name._ Society would’ve fainted had it known.

Deciding that this time, instead of trying to fix her forwardness, she’d better flee. Right now her accosters held a better appeal than facing down this enigma of a man.  She turned to the door. Her silk glove kept slipping off the brass knob in her rush. Felicity heard a rustle of fabric behind her, his footsteps almost indecipherable. Finally, the glove stuck and the knob turned, allowing freedom.

Escaping the confines of the room with her puzzle man, she took the first available path, turning left on a whim, hoping it was the right direction to lead her back to Evelyn and Mr. Harper. Something about Oliver Queen unnerved her. Years of facing down unruly and unhappy customers had her reactions flawless, yet one interaction with a man who lit her curiosity like no other person before had it crashing down… it was untenable.

Oliver Queen was fascinating; as captivating as an unfamiliar machine that Felicity just had to figure out. She itched to go back and undress him, lay him open to her eyes and find out all his secrets. A deep-rooted feeling tugged her back in his direction. Felicity ignored it.

Three turns later she knew she was lost. It seems that even though she spent 12 years in brothels and gambling houses, that knowledge didn’t help her now. She’d ran into a staircase running up to the floor above; no descending stairs in sight. Sighing, Felicity spun around.

Right into a hard, firm chest.

Silk brocade waistcoat decorated the hard panels, the dark, somber emerald contrasting with her violent purple gloves. Inhaling, she identified a combination of cedar, lemon, and cardamom, plus something that was unique to the person she had just collided with.

She looked up into his covered face. This time there was no mistaking his expression. He was amused.

“It seems I’m lost.” _Stars and bolts!_ Why could she never control her demmed mouth around him?

He stepped back away from her, bowing slightly. “Allow me to escort you out... _Felicity.”_

Felicity felt her eyes widen and her wires in her spine start to short-circuit. Oh, _daaamn._ She shouldn’t have given him her first name and only her first name. The way he caressed all four syllables was positively sinful. Intimate.

Thrills ran up her back, sparking along her wires. Her breath caught, stuttered, and sighed all at once. He was dangerous, that much she knew. He drew her in as though she stood on the edge of a lake, longing to feel it’s cool depths, knowing how much pleasure she could derive from its dark waters. The danger lurked in her inexperience; she had no idea how to swim or navigate such waves. Something about him called to her, begged her to cast aside her fear and _drown_ in him.

Shaking herself out of the spiraling thoughts, she noticed his gloved _left_ hand extended. Most men took advantage of a young lady and offered them their right hand, also known as their marked hand, to subtly check if the woman in question was a potential mate, or a spark. Oliver, it seemed, either had no interest of knowing or had been out of touch of Society long enough to forget customs.

Felicity placed her right hand in his, stiffening when he squeezed gently, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. She hoped he didn’t notice the difference of her hand-- it being metal after all. He hesitated over it, long enough for Felicity to hold her breath in anticipation. For a brief second, she could’ve sworn he planned to kiss the back of her hand. Instead he seemed to shake himself, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Come. Let us see if I can’t return you to your companion.”

Felicity glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, so you do remember me from my grand entrance.”

He avoided her gaze expertly. “I know whenever anyone, especially women, cross my threshold.”

Felicity leaped upon an opportunity to solve one of her many questions. “I did notice that there are no fancy ladies here. Most gambling dens have them for their clientele, yet the Queens and Arrows does not.”

“I find the act of prostitution distasteful.” Oliver replied bluntly. They’d come to a staircase, Oliver pausing enough to let her gather her long skirts. “Women are people; not things to be bought, used, and then cast aside for a fresher piece. Before the island…” He trailed off, looking alarmed, as though he just remembered her presence. “Well, I was a…” His right arm cast around for a word, probably something not offensive to a lady's ears. Felicity had no such qualms.

“A rake?”   

“Ye-es. The island, as well as other events, have taught me differently, taught me to treat a woman with respect. Which is why I don’t allow women here. The men who gamble and play do not have my restraint nor my morals. Any woman, a lady or one of the night would be manhandled against her will. I do not wish that on anyone, female _or_ male.”

Felicity recognized that tone, the double meaning behind his words. Felicity used it often. The wistfulness of regrets and has-beens. Of not wishing the evil that had been inflicted upon her to happen to anyone else. Oli-- Mr. Queen had been used against his will.

She suddenly empathized with this man more than she had a moment before. They were very similar in some aspects, it seemed.

At the bottom of the stairs she stopped, turning to him. She searched his face, trying to see behind the veil. He was shuttered against her though, closed off. “Thank-you,” she breathed, astounded by his consideration and solution. While ‘banning’ women was slightly extreme, the intention behind the act was honorable. She’d misjudged this man.

He was taken aback, bewildered at her whispered confession. All too soon, he hid it under a mask of politeness, offering once again his arm. Felicity accompanied him in silence, taking comfort from his presence alone.

Too soon, they’d arrived back at Mr. Harper’s door. Oliver Queen bowed, silent, and took his leave. Felicity panged at his departure. She’d miss his reserved company.

Evelyn and Mr. Harper were deep in discussion, tears silently trekking down Evie’s face. Their conversation wasn’t pleasant, apparently. Felicity could discern what that was.

Mr. Harper had probably found his mate, and was attempting to let down Evelyn as gently as he could.

“Evelyn.” She called, getting the girl’s attention. “We need to go. Say your farewells and let us depart.”

Evelyn nodded, speaking to the young man in front of her. He bowed and she curtsied, coming towards Felicity.

They left the same way they came in, through the game floor. Felicity risked a glance up. This time, no veiled man peered down at them. Disappointment settled on her shoulders. Felicity ignored the little voice asking why she even cared. She didn’t. She didn’t care one bit.

* * *

Two weeks later and Felicity was a ball of anxious nerves. She paced her shop floor, back and forth, back and forth. Each step sounding like a death knell.

The door opening, the bell up top ringing had her insides twisting, hope and dread, anticipation and nervousness. Each time, the customer through the door was not the one she wanted.

Two weeks. Fourteen bloody days had gone by and Mr. Alonzo had not entered in through that door. A week straight of constant daily calls, as such a persistent man, does not just _stop._ Unthinkable. They were up to something, and Felicity had no idea what it could be.

Ever since she’d been attacked, silence was the only thing heard from her perpetrators. The Anonymous Master, as she had been taking to calling him, seemed to have vanished, no longer willing to pester her. They knew what she was. They knew that she had a White Dubrowski. No chance on the continent that he would just give up. He was planning something.

Felicity had to prepare for every contingency.

The pressure had wound her tighter than a clock, startling at normal noises, snapping at Diggle, berating Evelyn.The latter had it the worst; not only was Felicity harping on her, Evelyn was in the doldrums of despair after Roy Harper’s rejection. She wandered the hanger aimlessly, a dull look in her eyes. Between Felicity’s paranoia and Evelyn’s melancholy, the two women were at odds. Felicity snapped more that she would’ve due to her assistant’s inattentiveness.

The best thing Felicity found to keep her busy, both her mind and her hands, was creating the Hood’s bow. Rene had found some ivory, giving it to her almost immediately, though extracting a promise that her ‘specialty’ be delivered in two weeks.

Ten human-like servoids. What a terrible thing.

She’d been experimenting when she had created the first one. Tired and frantic, slowly dying, bit by bit, doing anything with her hands to continue living.  Instead of toying with Alloyiums, she wanted an entire automaton to pass as a human. She was the first person to create one, after years of many people trying the same thing.

The failed experiment, the one discarded past her usefulness, rose above them all and accomplished what none of the other could.

Then when she sold one to Rene for food, he realized what a gem he’d found. Over the past couple years he’d asked for more and more, his customers demanding for human androids.

Felicity knew what she’d created was wrong, and in the wrong hands would turn into a disaster. She’d only done it to prove a point, to prove that she was smarter than Cooper, that she was still useful, that they hadn’t need to use her as a test subject---

That if he’d just listened to her, they’d won the prize money.

Instead, he was gone and she was like this.

The bow had finally been finished; she’d put the final touches on just that morning. She’d been hoping to catch news of the Hood, but he’d seemed to disappear along with Mr. Alonzo. The city hadn’t seen him in three weeks, crime rising with the Nightmare seemingly gone. Criminals got braver, citizens got more frightened. Starling City was starting to realize the impact one man had on their entire lives.

Felicity knew it was because his bow was broken. She’d tried to fix it as best she could, though it must not have been good enough. This made her even more determined to craft a stronger weapon.

With her finished product, she headed to the one place where she’d knew she could get it to him--  Steam, Tools, Automatons, and Regulators Laboratory. Or as Ramon liked to call it, STAR Laboratory. He’d fashioned the first bow, which meant that he’d be able to locate her oblivious client.

Instead of using the front, she wandered in from the back, looking over Ramon’s new designs. She about ran into a young man tinkering with some chemicals.

“Still trying to turn lead into gold, Mr. Allen?”

He jumped, whirling around to face her. Felicity felt her mouth stretch into a smile at seeing him.

“Miss Smoak! I didn’t see you there! How are you this fine morning?”

“Alright. I’m meaning to talk with Ramon. Is he here?”

Barry Allen shrugged. “I think I saw him an hour ago? Maybe two?”

“Lose track of time again didn’t you. What is it that you’re working on?”

Barry’s eyes lit up and he turned to his chemistry set. “A new flame retardant. Hopefully this coating on certain types of fabric, say leather, will protect it from temperatures over 300 **°**  Fahrenheit!”

“That’s very good, Mr. Allen. I’m just going to go find Ramon and get out of your hair. Go ahead and go back to your flame retardant.”

“Of course Miss Smoak. I believe he might be up front…” Barry trailed off, already going back to his glass flask of blackish liquid.

Two steps towards the front Felicity paused, an idea occurring to her. “Mr. Allen?”

“Yes?” He mumbled distractedly.

“Please inform me when you have any of that tested and it’s successful. I might wish to procure some from you in the future.”

That got his attention. “Of course! Thank-you!” He grinned.

Felicity turned, focus back on her mission. She felt the thump of the finished bow against her back, covered in fabric to disguise it. Ramon was not in the front, unfortunately. However, she ran into another friend: Caitlin Raymond, nee Snow.  

“Felicity!”

“Good day, Cait.”

“Come, come. We have no customers at the moment, as you can see. Which means I can take a minute and speak to an old friend.”

Felicity felt her spirits rise. It felt good to talk to another woman besides Lyla. Someone who had known her before Boston.

Though it did hurt her to keep her new enhancements from her old bosom friend.

They chatted for a bit, small talk about the weather, what Felicity was up to. They discussed Caitlin’s marriage, and her friend revealed that she was expecting. Felicity congratulated Cait on the new Raymond heir, then departed when a tall man entered STAR Labs.

Felicity took her leave, remembering at the last second to ask Caitlin where Ramon was. She informed Felicity that he was next door repairing a steam carriage.

Felicity found Francisco Ramon under a the large driver cubby of a carriage, muttering to himself.

“These carriages have a flaw, don’t they?” She spoke, hoping to startle him.  A clang from below had her wishes coming true.

“Smoak!” Ramon climbed out, rubbing his head. His goggles made his eyes look bigger than they actually were, magnifying the pupils.   _Was that how she looked in them?_ Felicity flashed a smirk.

“Good afternoon to you, Ramon.”

He sighed, dusting off his trousers. “You startled me on purpose, did you not.?”

“I admit, I did.”

“Of course you would. I take it this is not a pleasure visit. Business as usual?”

“Ramon, when have I ever visit you just for the pleasure of your company? I’m always here for business, though I am grateful for that flaw in the steam engine. Keeps a steady flow of cash coming in.”

“I’m with you there Smoak. The combustor should be of copper, not lead like they keep using. A simple change would save us all some hassle.”

“Though less customers.”

“You’re right. Now how may I help you today?”

Felicity looked around. No one was in sight, it didn’t mean that there weren’t eavesdroppers. Felicity dragged him over to the corner, crouching down.   

“Have you noticed that the vigilante hasn’t been seen in three weeks?” She whispered. Ramon raised his eyebrows, befuddled. He nodded, giving her permission to continue. “Well, three weeks ago I ran into him. These three men broke his bow. I tried to fix it before the vigilante woke but it wasn’t good enough.”

“And this concerns me… how?” He twirled a wrench around his finger

“Stop pretending otherwise, Cisco. I know your work and I know you created the Hood’s bow. You made it just for him.”

Ramon’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Felicity plowed on. She tugged the bundle off her back. “So I made this for him.”   She uncovered the finished design. Ramon gasped in delight. His hand ghosted over the recurves, tittering in unbridled awe.

“You made this?” He wondered, picking up the bow and testing its weight.

“Yes. And I know you know where to find him.”

“I do.”

“Can you arrange a meeting? Or tell me where I can locate him?”

“Yes…”

“Perfect. Thank-you!”

“...for a price.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me Smoak. You just showed me up in mechanics, which I do not appreciate. Now, you need my help locating the Nightmare of Starling, who is a notorious criminal. I would be considered his associate, an accomplice. You might go running off to the mounted police to turn me in, to get rid of me. So yes, Smoak, there is going to be a price. Are you prepared to pay it?”

Felicity nodded.

“Alright. First, your silence. You can not tell a single soul what I’m about to tell you, do you understand?”

“Agreed.”

“Second, and this is most important--Why?”

The question took Felicity off guard. How dare he? Irritation built in her chest.

“That’s your second condition? To tell you why I took hours from my work day to fashion this piece of art, to barter and trade to obtain the ivory, erase and redraw each component, all for a man I’ve never met? Because I admire him. What he’s done for this city is remarkable. You just called him a criminal-- he’s a hero, Ramon, and if you can’t see that..? No. He’s made a lot of sacrifices to help the citizens of this city and he doesn’t even get a thank-you. I watch him get punched to a pulp by very large men, four of them, and survive. He’s never asked anything from us in return. So I think he deserves something, even if it’s just a bow.He needs one; he can’t protect this city without it.”

Ramon didn’t look surprised at her outburst. He pursed his lips, conflict in his eyes.

“I’ve dishonored you, Felicity,” he used her first name, “and for that I apologize. I meant no offense. You’re a good person, and what you just shared with me proves it. I had to make sure of your intent.”

He crossed over to a table, pulling out a fountain pen and a piece of parchment.

“This is where you will be able to find him. If I can, I’ll send a message for him to expect you, but I offer no guarantees. He’s not the friendly sort, Smoak. I don’t anticipate he’ll welcome you with open arms. Very surly”

“I appreciate your help, Ramon. See you at the fair next week.”

“That coincides with the Queen’s gala, doesn’t it?”

Felicity nodded, winking. “May the best mechanic win.”

“Oh Smoak, you have no prayer. Imma take all the winnings and spend them with all the pretty ladies Mr. Queen rejects.”

“In your dreams, Ramon.”

Felicity trotted out, a lilt in her step. Clutched in her fist was her debt repaid. All she had to do now was confront him.

Staring down Oliver Queen had been hard enough. Encountering the Nightmare of Starling when he was awake? Felicity hoped she had enough iron in her spine. She’d need  all she could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews feed the muse! Let me know what you think!
> 
> You can visit me on twitter or tumblr @geniewithwifi
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please subscribe! More chapters come every week. If you're looking for another Olicity steampunk fic, I recommend [ There's a Machine Where My Heart Should Be](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9134530)


	4. Esoteric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marked by secrecy or privacy; private; select; confidential; as, an esoteric purpose; an esoteric meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you for all your support! It's really great reading all your reactions to the last chapter.   
> A big thanks to writewithurheart for betaing! And without further ado THE NEXT CHAPTER.

Felicity looked at the crumpled piece of paper in her hands, looking up at the street signs. 

_ Stand at the Northwest corner of Broadway and Crescent. Wait for midnight. Look southeast. Look really hard. If you see what you need to see, follow it.  _

She was about to murder Ramon. If she saw him again, she would have the pleasure of strangling him. He’d sent her into the heart of the Glades, with cryptically vague instructions, hoping against hope that she’d see ‘what she needed to see’. Thankfully enough, she stood on the corner of the busiest street in the district, but as the night wore on, the gas lamps started to dim, the traffic ebbing. Equipped with only the clockwork bow on her back, she realized she had no means of defending herself should anything happen. 

A  _ bong   _ echoing over the buildings startled her. The clocktower counting midnight. Unconsciously, she started counting.  _ One. Two. Three. Four… _

Movement out of the corner of her eye had her turning south once again. She peered through the darkness, trying to make out the shadows. Maybe, just maybe…. There! A flicker of green down an alley way between a confectioner's shop and a tailor. Felicity stepped into the street, heedless of anything besides her target. 

A screeching sound reached her just as the clock boomed  _ twelve.  _ She hadn’t noticed the barreling steam carriage racing down the street as she stepped out. Now she was directly in it’s path, the brakes squealing.

“Get out of the way!” A voice screamed.

Felicity froze in fear, watching as the brass plates drew nearer and nearer. It was so close she could see her reflection in the gleaming metal, her eyes wide. She threw her hands up, bracing for impact. The practical part of her brain asked her why she thought her arms would save her, but the rest of her body instinctively went into survival mode. 

Protect face. Brace. Close eyes. Breathe fast. Pray. 

The waiting felt like a century though it was only about a second. A whoosh of air flowed into her, and Felicity expected the weight of a two tons to accompany it. She carefully opened her eyes when the impact didn’t come. Perhaps she was already dead? 

If heaven was waking up to staring at bronzed metal then yes, she was dead. If not then she was miraculously alive. The carriage had come to a stop barely before hitting her, by about three inches.

“Move wench!” The driver yelled, his face an angry red. Felicity was tempted to yell back at him, tell him off for driving like a madman. Instead, she physically bit down on her tongue and stepped back, allowing him to pass. 

She glared at him, imagining her eyes shooting blasts at him. If only she had a crystal, anything higher than a blue. It would be so easy for her to insert the power gem, raise her palm, and hit him fully in the chest with electricity. Watch him writhe on the ground in pain. Teach him a lesson for driving so fast. 

Alas, the only crystal she had was the one connected to her spine, and she wasn’t about to detach it for a petty reason. 

Once the carriage had vanished down the street, Felicity turned back to the alley way. There was no motion, not a flutter of fabric or a flicker of flame. Whatever she had originally seen had utterly disappeared. 

This time double checking for approaching coaches, Felicity crossed over, heading to the alleyway. She didn’t know what she was looking for. An object? A note? A gigantic green arrow painted on the side of the alley pointing in the direction she needed to go with the words NIGHTMARE OF STARLING FOUND HERE? 

Maybe even the Vigilante himself.

All these possibilities ran through her mind, cascading her thoughts. Her anxiety of the unknown grew the closer she came, sweat forming at the small of her back. Wind howled from the alley. Her footsteps were the only other sound, a sharp staccato against the pavement.

She expected any of the things and none of it. She expected the passway to be empty, or lead her to the Hood. 

Felicity never expected a punch to the face. 

She cried out, pain flaring from her nose, tasting the bitter tang of blood coating her mouth. The force of the hit pushed her back, stumbling over her feet. Her equilibrium swayed, her vision going in and out. 

Suddenly, her legs hit something low, digging into her calves. Gravity took ahold and pulled her down, head hitting the cobblestones. 

Voices overhead made her look up. Two men stood over her, lust and anger in their eyes. 

“Boss won’t mind if we’ve some fun, will he?” One asked his companion, glancing at him. The second didn’t take his eyes off of her when he replied, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” 

Felicity scrambled away, screaming when she felt an iron fist clasp over her ankle. She kicked out, hoping to hit something fleshy. It only made him curse and yank harder. 

“Stop your screaming, bitch. I promise you’ll enjoy it.” 

Felicity grabbed at anything in reach. Her hand closed over a heavy object; the bow. She whipped it in the direction of the two men. A grunt of pain came from one of the men, meaning that she’d made contact. 

The bow was wrestled from her grip, scraping her hands.

Hands pulled her up, lifting her into the air. She fought viciously, tearing her fingers into his arm, biting with her teeth, kicking with her feet. 

The thug carrying her hit her head against the wall. “Be quiet.” 

Instead of being quiet, Felicity got louder. 

“Help! Help me! Someone please help!” 

Another punch to the face had her dazed. 

The wiry one was speaking to his companion. Felicity only caught a little of what he was saying. “Come on.... the crystal first... the green... then we’ll...our fun.” 

This wasn’t some random assault. They were here for her Dubrowski. 

The man who was holding her pressed her up against the wall, her arms eagle spread. She smelled the stink of his breath as it coasted from her face down her neck. 

She turned her face away, struggling to release his hold. Felicity felt his companion come up, roughly moving her hair.  

On the side of her neck, near the back, almost on her shoulder, barely covered by her hair, was a metal plate. Underneath that pulsed her White Dubrowski, the power source that kept her alive. 

The man tugged at it, getting a gritty fingernail under it and prying it open. Felicity thrashed her head, attempting to headbutt him.  

The bigger man let one arm go. Unfortunately it was her left arm, not her metal one and not the one closest to the man digging around in her head. Just as she was about to swing her arm up to clock her captor, she felt a sharp edge press against her throat. 

Felicity froze. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, don’t move, little lady. We wouldn’t want you to bleed out before we have our fun, do we? No. So hold still while Tom here gets what we came for.”

He released her other arm, so the only thing that prevent Felicity from moving was the threat of being cut. She heard the jangled of a belt buckle, a hand pulling at her skirts. They were about  to rape her and leave her for dead. So either move and die quickly from a slashed throat, or die slowly after having dignity ripped from her and her power source removed.

Felicity felt a  _ snap  _ as the wiry fellow pulled the White Dubrowski from her head. She watched as he tucked it into his trousers pocket. The bigger man loosened the knife, grabbing her shoulders ready to throw her to the ground.  Felicity wished she’d made a decision earlier, moved and got her throat cut. Now she was going to die via the second option. 

Already the loss of power was affecting her. Her spine was sagging, her legs unsteady. Her right wrist creaked with motion. She’d last maybe a week, dying not from the paralysis, but from the lack of being able to provide for herself. 

Felicity lamented that she told noone where she was going.  Diggle would worry, try to find her. They’d lose customers with her absence. Evelyn would be evicted without an income, probably turning to prostitution.  

A soft  _ thump  _ came from behind her. She saw the man holding her eyes widen in fear. His companion took off, scrambling away with her Dubrowksi. She attempted to tell him to stop, scream at him to bring the crystal back. Her voice betrayed her, only mouthing silence. 

She’d gone mute. 

Her captor flipped her around, pulling her against him. That’s when Felicity saw what made large, ferocious thugs tremble and flee. 

A hood pulled over his head, shadows hiding his countenance, and a wooden bow taunt with ammunition, the Nightmare stood there, an arrow aimed at them. At her. Felicity realized she was being used as a human shield. 

“ _ You have failed this city.  _ “ The dark hollowless voice intoned. “ _ Release her.”  _

“No.”

Seeing the Hood should’ve scared Felicity. Instead, his presence had her feeling more brave that she had had all night. A trickle of her usual iron flowed into her confidence.

‘Unbelievable.’ She internally berated her captor. ‘You’re planning to argue with the man pointing an arrow at you? You’re an idiot.’ She turned to the Hood, begging. ‘Help me,’ she hoped her eyes conveyed, ‘I’m being held captive by an idiot.’ 

A tilt of his head was her only warning.

An object whizzed by, a thunk of an arrow embedding flesh behind her.  She was pulled down with the man, who still had a tight hold on her. Twisting around, she spotted the arrow sprouting from the man’s eye. He was dead. 

Rolling over, she heaved up her dinner, the grotesque sight making her sick. She heard running footsteps and she realized that the Hood was leaving her. 

Felicity attempted to cry out again, frustrated when only air came out. A rock next to hand caught her attention, and she lobbed it in the direction of the receding figure. Surprisingly, she hit him, squarely in the back. 

He flipped around, an arrow nocked to his string already. With no voice, how could she tell him she needed help? 

Felicity patted her chest once, then repeatedly, frantically. She implored him with her eyes. 

_ Help me.  _

He stalked towards her, bow never loosening. 

“ _ He’s getting away.”  _ The black voice growled. Felicity hesitated. Which was more important? Felicity needed the crystal to survive, so obviously he should chase the attacker who had her Dubrowski. Yet, she felt so helpless, not wanting to be alone. 

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, fighting down her inner panic, telling herself that it would be alright, Felicity braced herself. Then opened her eyes directly into the Vigilante’s. 

_ Go.  _ She mouthed, pointing away.  _ Then come back.  _ She pointed at the ground in front of her. 

The Hood nodded once, placed the loaded arrow back in his quiver, and raced off into the night. Felicity rested her head against the back of the wall, weary and in pain, tremors flowing down her legs. Right now she could barely move them, but that would fade. Soon she wouldn’t be able to feel them anymore. 

Long minutes she sat there, willing her mind to keep her awake or keep her from going mad. Felicity always ended up counting. Every tangent lead back to the number one. She forgot how many times she’d uttered numerical order of integers. 

Running footsteps, barely distinguishable, had her whipping her head around, yelping as she jostled her skull. She’d hit pretty hard. The Hood tromps in her direction, head down and mouth frowning. 

“I lost him.” He snarls, anger radiating him like a hot stove. A fist punches the wall above her head, mortar sprinkling her hair. 

His words crushed Felicity’s hope. She needed that crystal and was depending on the Hood to retrieve it for her. She felt tears gather and slide down her cheeks, ducking her head to hide it from her companion. 

“I’m--I’m sor--.” He halted, mouth moving but no sounding coming out. Almost as if he was mocking her. “I’ll get it back. I promise.” 

Felicity ignored him, sliding down the spirally depressing thoughts. She’s been here before, four years ago. When Cooper tossed her in the streets and left, the back of him the last thought. A recurring theme in her nightmares. The retreating back was sometimes her father, usually Cooper, once in awhile Diggle or Lyla. 

And now the Hood, running away to catch a criminal. 

“Come.” He held out a hand, demanding her to take it. Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his. He hauled her to her feet. Felicity had to place her hands on his forearms for balance, and his hands gripped her corseted waist to keep her from swaying. 

“Can you walk?”

Felicity looked down at her legs, there, but slowly losing the range of motion. Felicity shrugged.  

The Vigilante grunted, unhappy, but ducked under her arm, bracing it across his shoulders. An arm encircled her waist while the other swung her up into his embrace. 

Felicity didn’t know where he was taking her. She couldn’t tell him to take her to her place, since she couldn’t physically speak. Pantomiming could only go so far. If only they had a tablet and charcoal, then she could write.

He stepped out of the alleyway, crossing the street. That’s when she noticed that they were heading to the southeast of the intersection. Felicity had gotten turned around in the dark when the carriage had almost run her over. Instead she’d headed to the wrong corner. A couple hundred feet and they were in another alley. This one had a dead end, with a sewer porthole right up next to it. 

He gently put her down, bending down to remove the grate. 

Felicity stared at it in disgust, hoping that he didn’t intend to take her down there. She’d get all grimy and smelly, more so than when working on a machine. Plus there were  _ rats!  _

Once the grate was removed, he made her stand up again. “Hold onto me, tightly.” He wrapped her gloved hands around his neck, then maneuvered to scale down the porthole. Felicity squeezed him hard as the descended into the blackness.The barely visible light above them grew smaller and smaller. 

When it was gone completely, Felicity expected to hear a splash when they landed in the water. Soft padded footfalls where the only sound heard. 

“Can you walk now?” He lowered her down until her feet touched. “I don’t think I can carry you all the way.”

Felicity shook her head, feeling her legs shake as he gave her more and more of her own weight. Suddenly it was too much, she collapsed.  

“What’s wrong? Why can’t you walk?”

Felicity knew the only way to tell him was so show him. She pulled off her right glove, revealing the metal hand and forearm. 

“You’re an Alloyium. You really need that crystal don’t you?”

Felicity nodded. 

The Vigilante grunted, unhappy. He took both hands in his, going to place them on his shoulders when it happened. His right glove grazed her left glove, pressing the fabric together. From it came shoots of electricity, blazing along her arm to her heart. 

A spark. A  _ soul  _ spark. One more powerful than she’d ever felt before.

Then the lightning reached her neck panel and  _ pain.  _ Intense pain. 

A scream bubbled out and died when it reached her vocal chords fading into noiselessness. 

The pain spread, bringing blackness at it’s touch. Her vision faded, sound diminishing, equilibrium destroyed. 

Her last thought was that she was falling. 

* * *

Felicity woke, the surface beneath her hard and unyielding. Not her soft feather tick then. She wasn’t on her bed for some reason. Maybe she’d rolled off in the night, a habit long since banished by growing up. It’d made a recurrence for some odd reason. 

She moved to sit up, raising up on her elbows. Felicity attempted to swing her legs over the side, though they didn’t respond. She sucked in a breath, as she told her legs to rotate. Nothing. Panicking, she reached for a leg to  _ make  _ it _ move.  _

“ _ Easy _ .” A deep voice cautioned, a hand supporting her, until she was upright. All at once she remembered: the attack, losing her power source, her legs deadening underneath her, and  losing her ability to talk. Overwhelmed, her vision swam as she turned and retched, her mind recalling the man with the bleeding eyes from an arrow. Nothing came up, her dry heaving. 

A cup appeared under her nose. Greedily she took it, gulping down the refreshing water. Replenished, vision stabilizing, she looked around. 

The room was a workshop, with a high vaulted ceiling, water running down from an open pipe in the corner. Arrows dotted every available surface except the one she lay on, maps of Starling hung on the nearest wall. A medical station was to her left, with many bottles, some labeled, some not. Beyond that was a strange contraption, a giant ladder without bars, only one removable one on the lowest rung. In front of that were thing usually found in a gymnasium; pumping iron, extenders, a lever pulley system with heavy rocks attached.  

She was in the Hood’s territory now, his place of abode. The lion’s den. 

The Hood returned with an object, plunking it down next to her hand. 

His bow. Well, the bow she’d planned to give him, in which doing so had lead to their current situation. 

“What is this?” He demanded, let go of it and crossing his arms. 

Felicity raised her eyebrows incredulously. Did he not know what a  _ bow  _ looked like? His weapon of choice? 

He pressed his lips together. That’s when she noticed something she hadn’t back in the alley. Then it had been dark and his whole face cast in shadow. Now, in a more lit cavern, she saw more. 

On the right side of his jaw ran scars, marring his cheeks and pulling at his mouth slightly. No wonder he kept his hood up. The scars traveled upward, meaning that it was more than likely his entire right side was deformed. 

“This bow. Why do you have it?” He rephrased his question, bringing her back to the situation. 

Felicity automatically opened her mouth the answer, then closed it again. 

“Tell me.” 

Felicity gestured at her throat, attempting to talk. His head cocked. Why was that action so familiar?

“You can’t speak? But--” he stopped himself abruptly, comprehension dawning.  “It affects your vocals too, doesn’t it?” He started listing abnormalities off, ticking them on his fingers. “Metal hand and metal forearm. Clockwork spine panel. Throat vocals. Anything I’m missing?” 

Felicity bit her lip, debating whether to tell him. Could she trust him? 

Immediately the answer came. He was currently trusting her a whole lot, with him showing her his center of operations. She needed to return quid pro quo. 

She rubbed the small of her back, where the machinery was that allowed her to walk. Cooper had almost decided that she needed a clockwork  _ heart,  _ until the accident. That was one silver lining to what had happened. 

“Lower spine as well?” The Nightmare paced across the room twice, lost in calculations. He returned after not too long. 

“You need a white Dubrowski, correct?” 

A nod from her. 

“I’ll be able to get one. Just stay here until I get back.” 

He turned, and that’s when she noticed wet droplets running down one of his sleeves. She made a come hither motion. He didn’t see her waving, but looked up when she started pounding the table. Felicity repeated the movement. 

He crossed over to her, giving her his arm. Swiping a finger over the liquid, it came away dark red. Blood. 

Following his bicep upwards, she located the cut right above his elbow. He needed that tended to. 

When he finally understood what she wanted him to do, he pulled away. “It’s nothing.” 

Felicity huffed.  _ It’s not  _ nothing. She thought. Pointing at the medical station, she scooted to the edge of the table, preparing to hop down. He’d been injured because of her. If he was too stubborn to take care of his own wounds, then it her debt to him to be repaid. She’d do it, even if she’d have to crawl over to the supplies. 

“What do you think...No. Alright, I’ll take care of it. Just  _ stay  _ there.”

He went over to the table, settling on a stool. Carefully,he first pried off his gloves, then followed by his jacket. His back was to her, blocking her view. The hood was still on, as well as one arm of his coat. She watched as he dumped different chemicals on his wound, then bandaging it up. 

After a few minutes he was finished, tugging the jacket back over his shoulders. During this time Felicity inspected her hands. She wore only one glove, the one protecting her soulmark. It was uncomfortable to have only one of two on, plus the index finger now had blood all over it. She rolled it down off her wrist, yanking on the fingers to remove it. 

Felicity looked at her mark, then looked back at him. He was a spark, one in about a meager ten individuals who were compatible with her-- personality, goals, morals, skills. They’d compliment each other.  

He returned rather quickly, picking up her-his bow once again. His other hand, however, held a slate tablet, white chalk tucked under his thumb. Eagerly, she took his from him, careful to not touch his now visible skin. 

_ I made it.  _ Felicity wrote, showing him her words. 

“You  _ made _ it? Why?” 

_ For you. I tried to fix your other one when those men broke it.  _

Her words took him off guard, the Hood stumbling back. “You were there that night?” 

She nodded. 

A myriad of emotions became clear as day as his mouth worked through each one. Shock, confusion, gratitude, wonderment. 

His voice became soft. “Thank-you.” 

The Nightmare reached out with both hands. Felicity, unthinkingly, took both of them. She was staring at him, wondering at the abrupt changes; from the surly temper and stubbornness, to fierce protector, and then to simple gratitude. They way he stared at her made Felicity feel hot and cold at the same time. The light caught under his hood just enough for her to make out his eye color: startling blue. 

Then her bare palm made contact with his soulmark. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think is gonna happen next? What happens when their mark touches? Let me know in the comments!


	5. Enchain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enchain: To link together; to connect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really late here on Friday so it's basically Saturday for you all. I apologize for my tardiness. This chapter was tough for me, because i'm out of my element. I'm not so good at writing train of thought with emotions. So if you feel like this works, please let me know! It's always good to get feedback on whether I succeeded in what I went to accomplish. 
> 
> Big thanks to writewithurheart for taking time out of her very busy day to beta this for me! :) Thanks Nic!  
> Also, GO READ HER STEAMPUNK FIC. IT'S BETTER THAN MY FIC SO GO READ IT.
> 
> Enjoy!

Two black marks touched and the world filtered out.  Two individuals became one, a perfect blending of souls. That was the magnitude of a soulmate. 

Felicity’s hand spasmed from the violent shocks arcing back and forth between her and the Hood’s marks. A small brush, as miniscule as if they’d passed exiting the same shop. Such an insignificant moment turning her life upside down. Now they had to go through the whole ‘bonding’ ritual. Which could take as long as an hour. All Felicity wanted to do was to go home, get her white Dubrowski back, and  _ not have a True mate.  _

The world was not that kind to her. 

As if magnetized, their two palms sealed together, warm hand pressed to warm hand. She felt thrills run up her arm, past her elbow, all the way to her neck and crystal port, igniting sparks and leaving a low burn in their wake. For an instant, the power of their two souls connecting had the cogs in her spine working, providing feeling and  _ movement  _ of her two legs. 

Her eyes drifted closed as her vision swam, spots flickering, her senses overloading. Ears started ringing, the pounding beats of her heart roaring, a steady stream of vibration to focus on. Her stomach rolled with nausea. Goosebumps covered her bared arms. Vaguely, she felt a firm hand gripped her upper arm, steadying her. 

Then, people she’d never met appeared before her eyes. 

First she saw a young boy, with dark hair and blue eyes begging her to come play, to come climb the large tree. She climbed it, following her companion. Up and up they went, until Felicity slipped, her foot coming loose. Down she fell, attempting to grasp branches as they whipped by, until she made enemies with the ground. Felicity felt the snapping of bone as she landed on her side, pain a fire of agony.

The vision faded and another took its place. This time it was a stunning young woman flirting with Felicity, coaxing her with her finger. Eagerly, Felicity followed the mysterious woman to the study where they were alone, a solitary candle burning. “Shhhh, or we’ll get caught.” She giggled, hands tracing down Felicity’s cheeks. The woman leaned in and kissed her, and Felicity could taste the sweetness of her lips. 

That’s when Felicity knew. These weren’t visions. They were memories. 

_ His  _ memories. 

Not soon enough the setting was replaced with a horrific scene, making Felicity rethink her previous judgement. She prefered the woman over what she was witnessing now. Bodies littered the ground, their necks bent at odd angles. Trees surrounded them, hiding most of the carnage. In the distance was some type of shelter. Breathing hard, Felicity took a step forward. Her foot came down on a hard object, round and smooth. Like a stone. 

She investigated it. The item wasn’t a rock; instead it was a gold pocket watch, with beautiful filigree on the outside. When Felicity flipped it open, inside was a daguerreotype of a young child-- the owner of the pocket watch’s daughter. And Felicity had just killed him in cold blood. 

She glanced down at her hands and recoiled. Blood dripped from them, covering the pocket watch, running to the ground, spreading all over. The dead rose up with hollow eyes, mouths chanting ‘Murderer. Murderer. MURDERER”--

The connection ripped apart, leaving Felicity gasping for breath. The memories faded, but the imprint of those lifeless eyes staring through her. It was too fantastic to be a memory. Perchance a memory of a dream instead? A horror that left it’s mark on the bearer. What kind of life had he led to turn him into the Nightmare? 

Suddenly,  _ pain,  _ like no other. 

Her eyes flew open and met his. He was backing away, shaking his head furiously, yet Felicity saw the same torment she was feeling reflected in his eyes.  It was as though she’d been ripped in two. She was missing a half. The phantom soul of a mark bonding. 

Felicity gasped silently as pain from her chest, a shredding torrent of misery, spread from every tip of every finger down to her unfeeling toes. Her body, her mind, her  _ soul,  _ screamed out for the interrupted coupling. The air erupting from her lungs from the torment of being severed, had she had working vocal chords, would’ve emitted a sound heard not in nature. It was pure torture. 

She lunged forward, precarious on the edge of the table, and recaptured his hand, holding it with both hands; her flesh one and the wrist of her unresponsive metal one. 

With the reuniting of their marks, the pain vanished. In it’s place were memory flashes; too quick to be caught and understood. From what Felicity could gather, the Hood, her  _ True Mate,  _ had had a normal, privileged life, until that horror-filled  _ event  _ that had drastically altered his course. 

Felicity resisted the urge to close her eyes, meeting and holding his. She read his emotions on his countenance  plain as day, as they were inside her also, underneath all the memories. Right now he was frustrated, angry, and scared. 

Frustration stemmed from not being able to control this bonding. It hadn’t been expected, and his attempt to halt it had gone rather badly. He had a list of things he needed to do, and finding a mate hadn’t been on the list. 

The anger was in her behalf. The simmering rage had him wanting to punch their faces, to beat on them until they had their punishment. Anger drove his desire to fix this city. Many had failed this city, making it unsafe. He was going to clean it up  _ his  _ way, if the policemen couldn’t do it. He was angry that men would disrespect a woman in such a way. Their job had been to take the crystal-- not her virtue. That made him furious. 

And lastly, he was scared. That confused her. A man with his power of intimidation couldn’t be scared. 

That’s when she realized that he was scared of  _ her.  _ Not her automan parts, no. He was scared of her because she was his mate. All his defenses were down right now, stripped bare. He was laid naked before her, her judgement held above him like a guillotine. She could cut him with one downward slice.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his free hand rolling fingertips against his thumb. He had no control over what she knew. And that terrified him. 

Felicity couldn’t feel her own emotions-- they’d been removed from her and given to him. He knew all about her trepidation of finding her soulmate. She was too damaged beyond repair. A freak of nature. Broken. Unlovable. 

Slowly, the flashes slowed, then halted all together. The flames licking at her left wrist vanished. His emotions fled, leaving her empty. 

With the memories now gone, Felicity realized that even with all that information, she hadn’t paid enough attention to obtain his identity. He was still the Hood, a mystery man. 

She went to snatch her hands away, her metal one successfully escaping, when he held on tight. Felicity struggled against his hold. 

“Stop,” he commanded, “or do you want that--that  _ splitting _ sensation to return?”

That’s when Felicity remembered. The bond separation rituals. What they had to do in order to separate their souls completely and  _ safely.  _ Not doing them lead to disaster-- usually death. 

There were six procedures, but only one combination of three of the six could unseal them.  

One emotional, one physical, one mental.  

She reached over, careful to maintain a firm grip on his hand, and snagged the slate tablet and chalk. 

_ Any ideas?  _

He narrowed his eyes,  irises dark under his mask and hood. “Bloody hell.” He inhaled, pressing his mouth into a sharp line, frustration mounting. Roughly came the exhale. 

“Alright. Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Without waiting for an answer, he invaded her space, stepping in between her legs, her skirt riding up. A hand caressed down her spine, following the curve until he rested on her bottom. Slipping between the table and her skirt, he lifted her up, pressing her to his body.

His other hand gently guided her hand to underneath his hood, under his collar to his bare skin of his throat. Felicity tensed as he cautiously let go, hoping that this would work, that their skin on skin transferring from marked palms to other places on their bodies would not result in agonizing pain. Felicity waited with baited breath for the flames to start up again. The Hood had no qualms, immediately hooking his forearm under her shoulder juncture, hand finding the back of her neck, gently tucking her face into his shoulder. Felicity inhaled his scent in relief--there was no pain-- as he started to move, carrying her, loving the gentle smell of leather and sweat, an under-hint of cardamon. 

A tingle of recognition perked up. She had a nagging feeling that she’d smelled him before. But where? Her mind discounted it, remembering their first encounter. He’d been unconscious, yes, but she’d been near him. She must be recalling it from then. Then why did she link it to the smell of opium?

Puzzled, Felicity tried to work it out. Being in a stranger’s arms, well, not  _ entirely  _ a stranger, being carried to do who knows what, had her distracted. Knowing where she’d smelled cardamon before wasn’t important. 

Abruptly, she felt him stop, then the sensation of sinking. Felicity gripped him tighter at the unknown reason for the motion. 

“Ease up there. I’m only sitting.” Oh. Well, that was an overreaction. 

Sheepishly, she pried her fingers off, settling back, appraising their new situation. He was sitting on a chair. She was kneeling-- which explained why she was so panicked, not feeling the wood of the chair-- one leg on either side of his, bottom resting on the top of his thighs. Their position was so indecent it had a blush rising to her cheeks. 

Felicity had never interactions such as these with anyone, let alone a man. She’d kissed Cooper, but never gone any further than that. That didn’t mean she was innocent. No. She’d seen heavy petting, risque’ seating, and unseemly fondling in multiples when living in a bawdy house. She’d just escaped from that happening to her. Now to be found in such a position… it shamed her. 

A glance at him told her all. He was quite comfortable with how thing were and was amused at her modesty.

“Make yourself comfortable.” He frowned , his warm breath blowing in her face. His thumb traced down her face, fingers tucking back a curl of her hair. 

She’d been staring at his mouth, following the scars upward, wondering what could make scars like that, crisscrossing over and curving along his jaw, when n a finger raised her face upwards, locking her eyes on his. Peripheral vision told her that he’d flipped over a sand timer, a small bell attached. When the sand trickled all the way down, the weight in the sand would tickle the bell. 

Good. The sooner this was over the better.

Eyes locked, Felicity debated whether throwing up walls would protect her or if it was already too late. Felicity had to protect her heart at all costs-- the danger of a soulmate. The one person she’s supposed to give her heart to is the one person Felicity is desperately trying to prevent from snagging it. She threw up walls anyways, mentally going to a place in her head that staring into his eyes wouldn’t affect. She dazed out, as she would had Evie been chattering her ear off. 

It worked for perhaps one minute. They were staring, but neither of their hearts were into it, both with mutual understanding. This was but perfunctory.  

Then she remember the significance of his eye color. Blue, not the black irises Society’s tales had rumoured his to be. A brilliant blue found at the base of flame, closest to the heat. It made her realize that he wasn’t just a legend, or a faceless hero. He was more than a symbol. He was  _ human.  _

As she stared into his eyes, she recognized what her mark already knew; a person perfectly matched. A man with faults, fears, strengths, and traits complimentary or equal to her own. He the right key to fit all her tumblers.

Cooper was just a soulspark. The man in front of her was her soulmate. He’d have more power over her.  

Was the universe right? Or had it chosen wrong, and he’d be the one to destroy her. The last time she’d trusted a person the universe thought might fit her, she’d ended up like this-- motionless, helpless, with her spirit slowly dying with her body. If she decided to trust the Hood, would he turn against her like Cooper? Take her apart piece by piece? 

All she wanted to do was to give him a gift. She never wanted to meet her True Mate. Bonding with him was starting to make things all the more complicated. 

Felicity blinked and turned away, just as the little bell next to them twinkled. She’d done her part just long enough. A tell-tale white flash over her eyesight informed her of such. 

She looked around for her communication devices.Spying her tablet on the table in arms reach of the chair, she had the presence of mind to note that he’d brought it over from the examination surface, the foresight a point in his favor. How thoughtful.

As she removed her hand, all of a sudden he snapped out and latched onto her wrist, the living one. Belatedly, she realized she’d broken the tactile connection. The fire hadn’t been intense, but in hindsight she had felt it simmering below the surface of her skin. 

She moved his palm to her neck again, making it so that she could write. Bracing the slab against his chest with her half fleshy forearm, she wrote in her childlike awkward scrawl:  _ What comes next? _

She grimaced at the atrocious non-dominate-hand  handwriting, then showed it to him. His frown, which had dissipated during their intense connection session, returned with a vengeance. 

“You’re not going to like it.” 

She was erasing her words to ask him  _ what  _ she wasn’t going to like, when he took her face in both of his hands and kissed her. 

Immediately, Felicity was ensconced in lightning. A cascade of heat rushed through her body, thrumming to her extremities. Her eyes closed in pleasure as she threw herself into the feel of him. The kiss started slow, a steady pressure of his lips against hers, with enough sparks to light dynamite. Then Felicity couldn’t help it; she sighed into the kiss, opening up to him. Immediately, he slanted his head, delving inside, his tongue playing with hers. 

She dropped the slate, arms encircling his shoulders, her marked hand sliding in under the hood. She needed to  _ feel  _ him, have his warmth at her fingertips. Her nails scratched through his hair, tugging on it, bringing him closer. His scruff at his jaw scraped against Felicity’s cheeks, a delightful sensation. 

Just as she was about to change directions, to take control of the kiss, she felt him tense, as if just realizing what he was doing. He broke away, both of their breathing ragged. Felicity’s heart thumped loudly as her lungs seized.

She was helpless to stop him as the Hood, picked her up and deposited her in his seat, pacing away from her. The loss of contact, she noticed, was not debilitating. There was a pulling her gut that told her that he was near, one positive end of a magnet to his negative. In his vicinity, she’d always know where his position was.  But the pain of separation had vanished. 

Which was strange. They had only done two out of the three. The mental connection was missing, which tended to be either introductions or service.

He interrupted her thoughts.“Come. I must get you home.” His voice was lower than normal; husky. He was just as affected as she was from that explosive kiss. “Your friends may have started to worry.” 

Felicity almosted asked why, remembering at the last second she still had no voice. 

He returned to her side, avoiding her gaze as he picked her up.  The vigilante swung her around to his back, thrown over his shoulder this time. As if she wasn’t as important as she should be. He’d carried her bridal style before when she was a stranger, but now that they’d gone through a rigorous process, she was now slung over his shoulder? She was his soulmate, damn it, not a damsel in need of rescuing!

She started pounding on his back. Felicity decided that the floor was preferable to the humiliation of this position. 

“Hold still!” He snapped, arms like iron vices around her legs from what she could tell. “Do you want me to drop you?” 

She stopped for a second, shook her head vigorously enough for him to notice, then went back to pounding on his back. 

“Quit! I can’t carry you on my back like we did before because you’re not strong enough to hold on right now! You’re losing power. This is the only way I can carry you up this ladder, but I need you to  _ hold still.  _ “ 

Felicity craned her neck to see what he was referring to. An observation she had missed was in the corner of his lair was a sewer ladder leading up to a manhole. There was no other way out. 

Reluctantly, she stopped fighting, understanding his logic. Already she felt lethargic and sleepy. Out of lidded eyes, she watched the ground grow farther and farther away as he climbed. As soon as he reached the top, he swung her off his shoulder into his arms.

They emerged into a familiar alley. Felicity felt as though she might have been here before, very recently. In the half-lit sky, she couldn’t make out the details. It wasn’t until they turned a corner that she noticed the creaking sign of a crown encircling a pair of crossed arrows. 

The Nightmare of Starling had his headquarters underneath Queens and Arrows. How ironic. That meant either Oliver Queen was in on the vigilante’s mission, or the Hood had a great sense of irony. 

As they took back alleyways across the Glades, Felicity wondered why she spotted so many fancy carriages. Normally in the mornings, the rich were all asleep in their beds, not out trotting around at dawn. 

But then she observed the shadows growing longer, not shorter. A lamplighter was lighting candles in the streetlight, not extinguishing them. 

She’d been in the Vigilante’s lair for almost a whole day. 

Which explained the fresh cut. The men in the alley with her hadn’t gotten close enough to injure him. That meant he’d gone out while she’d laid passed out on his examination table. Had he been looking for her Dubrowski? 

He’d informed her that he could just go get one. Why hadn’t he? Did he try and was unable to procure one? Or maybe the Hood had been lying. A lie to get him out of fetching her an expensive power source. Who knows?

The questions kept coming and coming while they walked. The gaps in his information. Why he smelled familiar. How he knew Ramon. 

How he knew where her shop was!

Because there it was, the lettering proclaiming The Smoak Screen fading slightly, the sign swinging. The Hood looked at her for the first time in a while, silently questioning which entrance. Felicity pointed the way to the side entrance. Better not alarm any remaining customers with the arrival of the Nightmare of Starling. She’d be infamous. 

He placed her on her stool, stooping down to make eye contact. Briefly, so quick she questioned it, he swept aside her stubborn hair and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Thank-you for the bow.” He whispered, just a wisp of air in her ear.  When her eyes, which had instinctively closed, fluttered back open, he had vanished. 

Three minutes later, Evelyn wandered in from the front, her posture slumped. “I aim surely missing Miss Smoak right’n now. She’d always did knowen the best fixes. I’m stilla learning---Felicity!” She exclaimed, spotting her mistress. Evelyn poked her head up front, yelling for Diggle, before racing over to her side.

“Miss Felicity! Oh you’ven returned to us!” 

Diggle reached them then. “Felicity! You worried us to pieces! We’d no idea where you’ve been--”

“Dig here swore you be dead.--

“I thought you might be dead or worse, stranded somewhere.--”

“Since peeps go missin’ allin the time.--”

“ With those men after you for your crystal, disappearing on me like you did was just plain irrespons--”

Felicity cut them both off, with large slashing motions of both her arms, her metal hand flapping awkwardly. 

_ I can’t talk.  _ She mouthed. They both looked at her in confusion. Felicity motioned to her voicebox. 

Diggle understood faster. “Bloody buggers. They stole it.”

“Stole it? Her Dubrowski?” Evelyn looked to Diggle, but Dig only had eyes for Felicity. 

“Are you alright?” 

Felicity nodded, laying her good hand on his shoulder. Diggle fussed over her while Evelyn went to dust off the wheelchair, unused for years. Felicity had hoped to never need it again, but knowing there was a slight possibility that she’d need it again, she’d kept it. 

Diggle placed her in the chair, arranging her skirts. Felicity smiled at Dig, hoping he’d understand her thanks. A tap on her shoulder had her turning to Evelyn. Felicity gasped. In Evie's hands was an yellow Dubrowski. Felicity took it from her and inserted it into her forearm cog, winding up the gears and then releasing them. Now having a secondary power source, Felicity’s arm could now move, fingers wiggling. 

A cold tear trekked it’s way down her cheek. Felicity hadn’t felt as cared for as she did right then. For even though she couldn’t speak nor couldn’t walk, Felicity wasn’t hopeless. She had two working hands and friends who would help her. 

That meant she wouldn’t die. Not for a couple months. However, eventually, without a crystal to power her spine mechanism, the chemical carbon liquid that reacts with the Dubrowski would seep through, poisoning her blood.

Time, it seemed, was in short supply. Felicity, despite everything, hoped to see her True Mate again. Not because she missed him, no. It was because the next time she would see him he’d had a white Dubrowski in hand, ready to fix her. 

Then they could part ways and never see each other again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something interesting to note. The 6 seperation tactics. 
> 
> Introductions and Acts of Service are the two mental bonding.  
> Dancing and Eye Contact are emotional  
> Kissing and Love Making are physical.
> 
> Let me know what you guys thought! And a question to mull over. Why did they only do two of the three?


	6. Echoing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Echoing: be repeated or reverberate after the original sound has stopped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I apologize for not updating last week. There was an issue with Ao3 which prevented me from posting for several days. However that has been resolved and I am back with a new chapter! Big thanks to Nicole (writewithurheart) for her feedback and pointing out that Felicity's voice doesn't work and why do I have her speaking. Oops. Thanks Nic!
> 
> thank-you for all your lovely comments and kudos. It means the world to me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Felicity felt her limitations most definitely, in the worst ways. She’d woken up in the morning, went to swing her legs out of the bed, and twisted her torso painfully, not quite falling face first off the bed. The day had proceeded from there: An attempted shout to Diggle, which then changed to rapid pounding of the wall when her voice refused to sound. All those phases would have to be enacted simply for her to just descend the stairs. Instead of moving of her own power, she had to rely on others,something that frustrated her. 

After Lyla had helped her dress, Felicity forgoing a corset, opting for a softer stomach roll, something she could take of on her own, Diggle had handed her a whistle. She could toot it and whoever was closest would know to pay her attention. It was an embarrassing necessity for which Felicity thanked him profusely, her face hot. 

Managing her shop would’ve been impossible without Lyla. Felicity normally was the face of the shop; Evelyn’s speech too unrefined to interact much with customers, and Society shunned and would not patronize a store run by a black man, even though he was her partner. Lyla was then the only one able to help with customers. Felicity would sit in her chair near the counter, a slate and chalk in her hands, and quickly write answers for Lyla to tell the customers.

At least that was the plan. 

Felicity’s shop opened at nine; an unusuality considering most shops opened two hours earlier. The time lost in business was necessary for Felicity’s creativity. Those hours were when she’d tinker in the backroom, experimenting and building. She did the major repairs Evelyn couldn’t after the doors closed. 

The first few customers went directly to Felicity. They were regular patrons, and Felicity was the person they were used to interacting. People were creatures of habit and familiarity. With regret and great embaressment, she’d have to direct them over to Lyla. 

One, a Ms Hall, looked between them with a calculating expression as she watched Felicity write answers to questions, and Lyla constantly looking to Felicity for reassurance. Those brown eyes were too intelligent. Her appraising glare burned, and Felicity tried her best to avoid making eye contact. Not soon enough, Ms Hall left, functional clock tightly grasped.

As the day went on, this proceeding became worse. Customers circumvented the line forming in front of Lyla, attempting to rush their visit by approaching Felicity. She had to reluctantly point them in the direction of Lyla, since trying to answer their questions was taxing, her hands ached from writing down all the words after the first hour. Felicity felt the firey sting of frustration as she watched a pair of men she’d refused help to stomp angrily from the store, loudly proclaiming to visit STAR Laboratories, since they had better service. 

Soon after that, in a lulling of comes and goes, Lyla marched over to Felicity,  a frown a permanent feature. 

“I apologize, Felicity, but you must remove yourself to the back.” 

Felicity was taken aback, and slightly offended. This  _ was  _ her store after all, the Smoak in Smoak Shop. Of course she should be up front helping the customers. Lyla was only there to speak for her.

Her astonishment must have been read on her face, because Lyla softened slightly. “Honestly, you’ve been the best of help this morning. However, we can’t keep having customers drawn to you when you can’t help them.  I do have this in hand, you don’t need to oversee every interaction.”

Felicity quirked an eyebrow, still incredulous. Could Lyla really do her job better than Felicity? A look around the shop reveal no waiting customers, for now. Would Lyla be able to handle it?

Lyla misread her expression. “There’s nothing for you to do up here. Maybe Evelyn could use you?” 

Felicity opened her mouth automatically to respond, but was interrupted by the opening of the front door. Lyla approached them, dismissing Felicity. As Felicity watched, the woman smiled at Lyla, handed her the broken blaster, and left, with not a single glance at Felicity.

She really wasn’t needed. 

Resigned, Felicity wheeled to the door, endeavouring to escape. This used to be her domain, where she ruled with an iron fist (pun intended). Now she was mostly useless, unable to run her pride and joy without assistance. She looked down at herself. Confined to a chair. Couldn’t help Evie fix carriages, couldn’t close sales with patrons, couldn’t even walk down the stairs without blowing an accursed whistle. 

The white Dubrowski in her neck had given her the freedom to move and to be her own person. Independence of movement, to be exactly what she wanted. The crystal was a gift; in that it gave her enjoyment of life-- she didn’t feel like half a person, waiting to die. 

Now that the crystal had been stolen, much more than a priceless Dubrowski had been robbed from her. Her identity, who she’d begun to make herself into after becoming an Alloyium, the self-confidence she’d established, crumbled in an instant. Felicity didn’t know who she was anymore.

Felicity felt a hot tear trace down her cheek. The door finally giving way, she navigated her bulky chair into the darker backroom. Oil lamps gave most of the light-- sunlight had a hard time beaming through grungy smoke laden windows. Here, she had a better chance of hiding. A chance to dwell in self-pity that kept rearing it’s head. Wallowin, indulging the emotion might make it go away for a time. 

She pointed her chair in the direction of a remote alcove, rarely traversed in her shop, when-- 

“Miss Smoak!” A voice called her out. Quickly, she wiped away her single tear. She changed directions reluctantly towards the back and her assistant. Spying Evie, Felicity cocked her head in askance.

Evelyn gestured to the worktable. “I have’n Aut’matons ‘n Blas’ers tha’ ya mioght fixen.If’n ya please?”

Clusters of parts covered the space, two blasters visible, a chest of an automaton among them. Felicity smiled. This is who she was. She could repair those since her arm was working. She wasn’t useless.

“Also, Miss Smoak, donchya forgit about’n the fair, it’s’n four days time.”

Felicity perked up, the day looking much brighter. In fact she  _ had  _ forgotten about the fair. She’s promised Ramon that she would win. Rubbing her hands she delved in the repairs, quick to fix them so she could go work on her project. 

For months now, she’d been agonizing over what to present at the annual Starling Inventors Fair. Every year since she’d been working in Starling, Ramon had beaten her out, having a slightly better invention than her. She had second place consolation prize, her ringing clock being passed over for his  _ toaster.  _ It popped the bread out, nice and crisp. 

Critics had said her clock was too loud, that it might induce seizures. They had no concern that a popping mechanism might startle people, especially those with war sickness. 

This year though, Felicity knew that her invention would win. The question was if she could put the idea into action. While making the Hood’s bow, the spring coils in the ends had inspired her. And now with having no voice, this invention would change the world through the written word. No more slates for her. 

A machine where you press a button, and a letter is printed on paper! It could revolutionize the world.  It was ingenious!

She sketched the entire thing out, making a list of supplies, dividing between the parts she had in stock and the items Evelyn would have to go purchase. 

Finished, she looked up to notice a cog on the table, left over from the automaton, reminded her of her promise to Rene. She needed to make 10 devices that could turn a human into a walking puppet. A device she would never take to the fair.

Grabbing her whistle, she turned to where she thought Evelyn was. Felicity noticed that the the backroom much darker than when she’d first entered. A quick glance out the window informed her it had started raining, daily light no longer coming in. Tinges of red could be seen through the clouds--sunset Hours had passed with her none the wiser. Thinking back, she hadn’t heards Evelyn’s usual chatter or rustling. It could be that she’d been so immersed in her work. 

She blew a small toot on her whistle, calling for her assistant. Felicity hated the sound that had replaced her own voice. Her voice was familiar, unique, and comforting. The shrill piercing of the flute was harsh and strange. 

Evelyn didn’t respond to the blast. Felicity listened, unable to hear her assistant humming or moving about. She turned away from the workbench, rolling all around the storage room, looking under all six of the steam carriages in need of repair, searching for any sign of the younger woman. 

Tooting once more, louder, hoping Evie would pop out and come running. 

Silence.

Evelyn wasn’t here. 

Movement off to the side had her whirling around. Finally. Felicity let out her breath, only just realizing that she’d been holding it. 

But it was only Diggle. 

“Miss Felicity? Is something the matter? I came as soon as I heard it. Lyla’s closing up now.” 

Felicity rolled back over to her slate.  _ Evie missing.  _

Diggle looked around too. “Odd. But now that you mention it, she’s been gone lately. You’ve usually been upfront helping customers. I’d come back here for something and notice Miss Sharp gone. She’s usually returned by closing though. And only in the afternoon have I noticed her missing.”

Peculiar. Maybe she’d been visiting a beau? But she’d only barely been rejected by Roy scarcely a week ago. Where would she’ve gone to?   

Diggle carried her upstairs where Lyla was fixing a simple meal of bread and eggs. He left her there at the table while he went to fetch her wheelchair The door slammed opened. Felicity turned, expecting Diggle when Evelyn stomped in. 

“Where’ve you gone to?” Lyla took a moment away from the stove, carrying over some newly browned toast. 

Evie frowned, brows furrowing. 

“Out shakin’ down dogs and whatnot, tryin’ ta git a fella ta snitch. We wanna win that’n brioght shinin’ trophy, donchya? At’n the fair?”

“And did you get anything that might’n tell us what Ramon’s machine is?” Diggle entered behind her, toting Felicity’s chair.

Evelyn shook her head, wringing out her hair, wet from the rain. “Nope. I did ‘ear that them fancy party is open for all, plus’n the likes of me! Can we go, Miss Fel’city? I wanna see em purty dresses.” 

Evelyn plopped herself down in front of a plate and started gulping the food down. The vittles were good. 

“Slowly,” Lyla admonished. Evelyn rolled her eyes, a classic young urchin, and kept shoveling it in.

Felicity grimaced, acutely aware of her chair in that moment. Going to a gala where there would be dancing? No one would take note of her, fancy dress or not. Well, notice would happen, it just wouldn’t be the kind she wanted. Stares of incredulity instead of admiration. But Felicity couldn’t deny Evelyn the experience. 

When she’d been around eleven, right before her mother had smuggled her out of the brothel, they’d attended a come-out ball- her mother as a fancy girl escort for some wealthy businessman. Felicity had come too. She remembered all the dresses, the fancy wine, the swell of music. Dreams had spawned from that experience, romantic reveries of handsome truemates and sparks. Her flights of fantasy had attributed to her utter infatuation with Cooper Seldon. The sour note of memory tainted her remembrance. Evie should still have that chance though, despite Felicity’s reservations. 

Felicity nodded, touching Evelyn’s shoulder to gain her attention. Felicity mimed slightly, motioning between all four occupants and imitating the waltz hold. 

“Thank ye. Imma see what’n we can trade wit Rene tomarra.”  She said through her full mouth. The food vanished quickly into her stomach, and Evelyn stood back up, draining the last of her mug of water. 

“I’mma head to me abode. G’nite.” 

Lyla reached over and grabbed the juvenile. “Evie, wait. Johnnie says that you’ve been gone in the afternoons a lot lately.” She glanced at Felicity for confirmation. “Is there anything you would like to share with us? Is this about Mr. Harper?” 

Evie wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Sure is.” 

“Evelyn. You can tell me or Felicity anything.” 

The girl shrugged, effectively releasing Lyla’s hold on her. “I just’ve me needed time to meself.” 

Felicity caught a glimpse of Evelyn’s countenance; cold eyes with a brittle smile. She slipped away before Felicity could understand why. A mental note was made to keep an eye on Evie. Destroyed hopes could turn someone faster than carousel. 

* * *

Felicity jolted up, temporarily unaware of where she was. Darkness surrounded her, the shadows breathing. She fumbled for the lamp next to her, grabbing a match. Something sinister had awakened her. A second before the match struck her heart clenched, stomach tugging. 

He was here. 

The light revealed the Nightmare with his back to her, staring out the window. He turned slightly when brightness filled the room. 

“It is only I.Well met.” He growled, low and deep, sending swoops to her core.”I implore you, extinguish the lamp” Felicity gritted her teeth, but turned down the lamp as far as it would go, leaving the tiniest of flames. She couldn’t help her little bit of a rebellion. He could order her around, but she still was her own person. 

He huffed but came closer. Felicity noticed his eyes leave her face and sweep downward. She followed them and realized that she was indeed in  _ bed,  _ in her  _ nightclothes.  _

Felicity hissed, clutching the bedclothes to her person, wishing she could cut him with her sharp tongue.  _ Doesn’t he have any proprietary?  _

Immediately he looked up, focusing on a spot on the wall above her head. 

“I beg your pardon,” he intoned. Felicity riveted in on his speech. Another clue about him. He was gently bred, as his memories had shown. He still spoke it though. “I should not have.. I apologize. I did not think…My apologies, Felicity.” 

Her head snapped up.  _ How did he know my name?  _

Abruptly, he paced away from her, to the window, then back again, his lips tightened in frustration at himself. He hadn’t meant to let that tidbit slip it seemed. He rushed on, seemingly desperate to change the subject. Felicity let it drop for now, reminding herself to ponder on that fact later.  

“Oliver Queen separated with a white Dubrowski today.” 

Felicity raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Oliver Queen would give up a  _ white  _ Dubrowski because the Vigilante asked for it? Of course not. The Hood used other means besides asking. 

Felicity lunged for her chalk and slate.  _ Willingly? Or Unwilling?  _ She wrote, showing it to him in the dimness. 

He remained silent. 

Slowly, he reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a gleaming Dubrowski, white and pulsing with power. Felicity held out her hand, sweeping her hair away from her cogwork opening. His gloved hand placed it carefully into her open palm, cloth brushing against her palm. The slightest whisper had tendrils of heat radiating from that one spot, the opposite of pain--pleasure. 

She carefully inserted it into the rivets, tightening screws and winding the cogs. She felt the cogs start to move, achingly slow. 

Too slow. 

Felicity waited, focusing on the machine in her neck, noting the movement, the whirring, how steady it was. Every couple of seconds a wheel would jerk, throwing off the mechanism. Felicity didn’t know what was wrong and she couldn’t figure it out without seeing it. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a handmirror readily, since she was in Lyla and Diggle’s spare bedroom above the shop 

She did have a second pair of eyes, however inexperienced he was. 

Felicity motioned him over. With rapidly decreasing effort, she shifted her hips, turning her back towards him. 

“Egads… your workmanship is complex! Pray tell me what it is I’m looking for, for i cannot tell.” 

Felicity reached for her slate once again before a better, more experimental, idea struck her. Her bare left hand reached behind her to grab his right hand, pulling it around in front of her. Off his glove came, revealing the intricate soulmark. Briefly, she traced it, marveling at the similarities between their marks, and the glaring differences. Where she had a giant cog, he had a bow with a drawn arrow, ready to fire. The scrolling patterns surrounding it, as with the triangle of star flowers in the left corner. 

Her fingers interlaced with his, palms touching. His arm encased her in a half embrace, leaving his left hand to prod at her neck. The flow between them connected, a thread of a river, as strong as a spider’s silk. She closed her eyes, hoping that this would work. 

Tentatively she followed the stream to his consciousness, knowing that this might bond them further, but she had no other choice. Attempting to keep their souls separate during this merger would prove impossible. 

She slipped into him; he willing let her take control, something that astonished her. From what she knew of her truemate, he didn’t give up power, let alone power of himself easily. 

Felicity opened her eyes, well,  _ his  _ eyes, and searched the back of her neck. It was like staring down a telescope, fuzzy and far away, but she could see. The White Dubrowski fit alright, but the two main cogs weren’t turning correctly. There was no damage from the two thugs ripping it out; all wires in place. Not a screw was loose. 

Then what was the matter? 

His hand released hers, breaking the connection. She opened her eyes back in her own body, gasping like she’d run to Pine Street and back. 

Her mind whirred, trying to figure out the problem. It was a true White Dubrowski for sure, no apparent flaws in the construction. The wheels weren’t turning fast enough despite the power, contributing to an incomplete connection, spokes off when interlocking--

The Hood picked her up and had her face him. 

“I know what’s wrong with your mechanism.” 

She grabbed his palm, soulmark to soulmark. A whisper of a thought from him, half formed before shut away. ‘ _ She’s the one, the one I sent--’  _ His mind blanked, keeping the rest from her.

Felicity interrupted.  _ Tell me what’s wrong.  _

“I am afraid you won’t be pleased.” 

_ Poppycock. Fixing things is a pleasure _ .

“The white Dubrowski isn’t powerful enough.” 

_ But there ain’t anything with more gumption than a White Dub _ . 

The Hood shook his head. Felicity thought he’d pull away, disconnect from her from her overwhelming confusion. Instead, he squeezed her hand tighter. 

“I’ve heard rumors of a crystal more powerful than a White, something spoke in undertones. The Diamond Dubrowski, only one having ever been found. I’ve never seen it before. But Felicity, I think you’ve been the proud owner of it for the past several years.” 

A Diamond Dubrowski? How was that even possible? Nothing was stronger than a white. Nothing! 

_ I don’t believe you. I have not heard this rumo _ r. 

“Trust me, it exists. I’ve seen people murdered over it.” An audible shut of his mouth, the click of teeth snapping together; a tell-tale that he’d overshared. What secret was he hiding? 

“I must depart. Apparently, I have a rare power crystal to track down. Do what you can with the white. Hopefully it is of some use to you.” 

Felicity felt a tingle in her spine, power supplying down, down, down to the very edges of her legs. She could  _ feel  _ them, no longer lumps attached, weighing her down. Muscles responded, contracting, moving, stretching. A thought had her knee twitching. It wasn’t perfect yet, it took time for the mechanism to run smoothly. She’d be able to stand within the hour, walk within two. 

A breathless smile on her lips, she grinned up at the Hood, eyes seeking his out, anxious to share this magnificent moment that he’d brought about by his tenacity. Her gaze met empty space. The green figure disappeared the same way he’d come: silently. 

The happy expression dimmed, a sliver of shame slithering in. Why had he left so fast? Was there something about her company that was distasteful? Old fears started taking shape. 

Before she’d learned to cover up, she’d been at the front lines of the brunt of Society’s aversion. She was an Alloyium, a freak. Unnatural. Humans got uncomfortable when they saw her metal parts, attempting to mask their revulsion. Adults would cringe, make excuses to leave, or pretend they didn’t even see it. 

Children tended to be a mystery prize. Most were unnecessarily cruel, the rich spoiled ones that came in with their parents, calling her names, teasing, poking fun. Rocks thrown at her while walking in the street. 

Then there’d been the curious ones. They’d point out the metal, ask why she needed parts.  Tentatively, she’d explain, that she’d been in an accident and someone had outfitted her. They expressed wonderment, marveling over her extremity. However, they’d eventually tell someone, and were either bullied into leaving her alone if they were street rats, or removed from her presence by a distrusting adult. 

She’d learned quickly to cover up. 

Now, that sense of loneliness came back full force. Even her soulmate--  _ one she didn’t want _ , a small voice reminded her-- couldn’t stand her presence. 

Tears welled, and Felicity dove into the self-pity, the well deep enough to hold her for a while. Wallowing wasn’t her usual play, too time-wasting and all that. Right now, though, she wanted to pity herself, to be selfish for once. She let the doubts in, the cruel thoughts, and wracked in a deep sob. 

One that did not echo, for it was not to be heard. 

Felicity clutched her throat, the vocal chords refusing to vibrate. She curled into a ball, reaching over briefly to extinguish the light, and cried herself back to sleep, holding her broken throat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me your speculations. Is Felicity going to win the fair?  
> What's with Evelyn?  
> And why is the gala so important? 
> 
> Let me hear your theories!

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me at [@geniewithwifi on Twitter](http://twitter.com/geniewithwifi) or [geniewithwifi on Tumblr](http://geniewithwifi.tumblr.com)


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